


and four makes home

by dreamsheartstory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (just a note the abuse does not happen between the ot4!), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amputation, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bar Fight, Bilingual Character(s), Character Study, Depression, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Foursome - F/F/F/F, Ice Play, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multiple Partners, OT4, Physical Abuse, Polyamory, Relationship(s), Self Harm, Smut, Stalking, Suicidal Ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-26 22:18:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 332,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6258007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamsheartstory/pseuds/dreamsheartstory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love shouldn’t be your biggest secret, and Clarke, Lexa, Octavia and Raven are done keeping theirs quiet. On the night of Clarke’s first big solo art show the truth comes out, and the audience includes more people than they bargained for. As the night unfurls the four look back on the development of their relationship; how they avoided break ups, and mended broken hearts, learning that sometimes it’s terrifying to be in love, but it’s worth it at the end of the day, and, maybe, most importantly, discovering that under no circumstances should Clarke Griffin be allowed to cook.</p><p>________________________________</p><p>I think we deserve<br/>a soft epilogue, my love.<br/>We are good people<br/>and we’ve suffered enough<br/>– Seventy Years of Sleep</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Almost Perfect | Present Day

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will jump between the past and the present, I'll make a note of which time period each chapter is in. If it helps I'm considering June 2016 "present day".  
> At that point in time Lexa has recently turned 30, Raven is 29, Clarke and Octavia are 28 (Clarke being older by 5 months).
> 
> _________________
> 
> A special thanks to my beta readers, [neda-5555](http://neda-5555.tumblr.com/), & [heylittleyahtzee](http://heylittleyahtzee.tumblr.com/). This story wouldn't be half as amazing as it's going to be without you all, because without you I wouldn't have pushed the story or the girls this hard.

Some secrets are not meant to be kept, they demand audiences, and some secrets are too beautiful to hide.

Clarke Griffin walks into Gallery 2149, wavy blonde hair only half tamed in a messy bun, carrying the last of her paintings to be hung for her first big solo art show. Sunlight shines through the floor to ceiling windows along the front of the gallery that look out on the busy downtown mainstreet. Temporary three quarter walls divide the space, breaking up the expanse of concrete floor into a horseshoe shape around the gallery edge. Her friends are at the center of it, their laughter and conversation echoing off the high ceiling.

It’s been a long morning but the bulk of the work is done, the largest pieces are on the walls, and all that are left are these last three paintings in her arms. She stops short at the sight in front of her because despite the nerves eating at her insides; this is perfect. Right now she doesn’t have to worry about being anything but herself and her heart is full to bursting because today is more than she ever dreamed it could be. After years of organizing countless gallery openings and being the one who fills up the empty corners of the room she finally has her own solo show.

Tonight is all about her art, and everyone that matters is here. It’s as perfect as it can be. The excitement is intoxicating and heady, and none of it would be happening without everyone else in this room. Most importantly, it wouldn’t be happening without her three girlfriends; her secret, which isn’t as much of a secret anymore, thanks to an accidental outing at their holiday party last December. At least Octavia’s brother had only made a scene in front of their friends, Bellamy had at least kept the spectacle out of the public eye.

Clarke watches from the edge of the gallery floor. Her mother and Anya are cleaning up packing materials littering the center of the gallery space. It’s like trying to clean up on Christmas morning with a pack of children tearing into presents. Abby ties off another garbage bag and tosses it into the pile. Jasper and Lincoln are sipping on water, lounging on the benches that run down the center of the horseshoe as they wait for another wave of instructions, though their job for the day is mostly finished.

Raven is leaning back against Lexa as she explains what their plan looks like for the last wall of paintings. Lexa's hand rests on Raven’s hip as her eyes follow Raven’s gestures, tracing the shape and substance of the plan in the air, pointing to key spots and explaining the complexities. They’re relaxed into each other, and sometimes Lexa watches Raven more than the explanation, a soft smile on her lips.

Clarke’s fingers itch for a pencil and a sketchpad.

Octavia interrupts Raven with a light kiss on her cheek, “What’s next?”

Raven leans back against Lexa, dark brown ponytail spilling over Lexa’s shoulder, mixing with Lexa’s lighter curls. Raven turns to look at Octavia, taking in the sight of her, tiny denim shorts and an oversized black t-shirt that long ago lost its sleeves to a pair of scissors at two in the morning. Octavia pushes a thin line of sweat on her forehead. Even in the air conditioned gallery space they can’t escape the July heat because Kane refuses to turn the units up any higher until they get closer to the show tonight.

Raven fans herself with the paper she’s been sketching notes on all morning, “I need to see what Clarke has for the last wall, I can’t remember which series she decided to finish.”

“I think it’s the trio of dancers,” Lexa steals the water bottle from Octavia’s hands and drinks half it down.

“Is that the-”

“-the one she drug me out of bed at three in the morning to pose for?” Lexa laughs. “Yes.”

“Oh good, that’s easier to hang than the other series.” Raven takes the water bottle from Lexa and finishes it off, drawing an exaggerated eye roll from Octavia. “Would you see what’s taking Clarke so long to get back here with the paintings?”

Clarke shifts the trio of canvases in her arms and sighs. “I’m back,” She calls out as she crosses the last few steps into the center of the gallery.

The images on canvas are seared into her mind, so even though right now the paintings are wrapped in brown wrapping paper, she can still see them clearly: Lexa, the curve of her neck, her back, her leg, three separate paintings, but all together they are one. She doesn’t want to let these ones go, but she knows tonight will be worth it.

They just have to get there. It’s a tight turn around from set up to opening the doors and popping the champagne and it all has to be perfect.

Every detail has been planned out to the flowers on the catering tables, white orchids, and the double sided tape she’ll need to keep the suit Lexa’s sister had picked out for her in place after her first glass of champagne. She had joked about hiding a flask of whiskey in the pocket of her suit jacket until Anya had gone off about lines and threatened to sew the pockets shut. Lexa had gently reminded her that maybe being drunk at her first big solo show wouldn't garner the kind of press she wanted. Octavia had chimed in with how perhaps that was exactly how the night should end, and aren’t artists supposed to be eccentric? Raven had later shown her a garter belt she was going to wear that could carry a slim flask.

They all made incredibly compelling arguments.

Clarke wishes she could just keep all of them by her side all night, but they’re in the closet. It’s one thing to be openly queer, it’s another entirely to be openly polyamorous. Being public figures makes their lives complex in ways they hadn’t anticipated. At first emerging from the metaphorical closet might lose Clarke a few patrons, but long term being seen as eccentric would probably earn her more money. Art scenes are weird like that. The others don’t have that luxury, for everyone else it could burn their career down overnight.

Lexa oversees cases that make the news often enough on their own, without her own life getting thrown into the mix. Raven works at the university teaching aerospace engineering and has to face a wall of bigotry from the older white male staff on a daily basis as it is. Octavia has always been an easy target at work, being slight and female and openly bisexual. One wrong move in front of the wrong person could make an already tenuous situation worse for any one of them. Then again, maybe people are better than that.

They don’t risk it though, as far as the rest of the world knows no one outside their ever growing inner circle knows. If they aren’t careful, soon there won’t be an inner circle. The more public their jobs make them the harder it gets to keep their relationship private and it’s only a matter of time before the secret spills out. It's easier to masquerade as roommates and close friends that act as dates on important nights, that meet for drinks after work, that sometimes rent out private back rooms at restaurants, and evade questions about their personal lives.

It’s messy and complicated and some nights it hurts, but it’s safer this way.

And they have their moments like this one when they can just be, when they’re surrounded by the people they trust. There’s no sidestepping around answers or evading topics. There’s no having to remember how they’re allowed to touch. Or questioning their own actions and impulses.

Second guessing her own actions has become second nature.

Octavia moves from Lexa and Raven to Clarke. She can see the line of worry splitting Clarke’s brow and she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, her head resting in the hollow between Clarke’s neck and shoulder, arms wrapped around Clarke’s waist, palms splayed flat against her back. Clarke relaxes into her arms, their frames shifting and folding together with an intimate familiarity. Octavia nuzzles against Clarke’s neck and breathes in her lavender perfume– the same one she’s been wearing since she turned sixteen.

“You have that face.”

“Clearly, Octavia, this _is_ my face.”

Octavia rolls her eyes as she pulls back, poking Clarke in the side and causing her to squirm away in laughter. “You know what I mean.”

Clarke presses a quick kiss to Octavia’s lips, “I’m fine, O. Really. You’re all here and we’re almost done so we can go home and get ready.”

“And eat. I’m starving.”

“Yes, that too.”

“Speaking of getting ready, what’s the plan tonight?” Abby looks up from where she’s meticulously folding the crumpled pile of brown wrapping paper.

Octavia tosses a ball of wrapping paper and tape to Abby, “Clarke is taking Lexa. I’m taking Raven.”

“Lexa’s a more impressive date than either of us.” Octavia adds by way of explanation. “And tonight is important.” She smiles up at Clarke, but there’s a hint of sadness in her eyes.

Clarke nudges Octavia with her foot, “I’d be proud to have any of you on my arm.”

Anya chokes back a gag and Lexa elbows her in the side even though she can see the laughter in her foster sister’s eyes. Anya’s known about them the longest, present for the entire saga that led to the four of them together.

There’s a thud and the front door swings open as the gallery owner, Marcus Kane, backs into the shop hands full of boxes obscuring his vision. Lexa takes a step back from Raven, nudging Anya to help her with a painting. Raven gestures for Jasper to grab a hammer and starts talking to him about where she needs nails and how deep. Clarke kneels on the ground to start unwrapping the paintings she just brought in, and Octavia rushes over to Kane to help him with the boxes he’s carrying. The separation is like an explosion, a rift between them. The space, once safe, is no longer, and they have to take precautions.

It’s too much of a risk.

They’ve gotten good at this, going through their public lives like none of them are dating. No holding hands, no kisses on cheeks. Instead always measuring their reactions wondering if what they do can be read as more than friendship, especially Octavia, her impulse control is the worst, but then again, without her they wouldn’t be together.

It’s a balancing act.

“It’s almost looking like a real art gallery in here,” Kane jokes, breaking the moment of silence as he sets the boxes down on the buffet tables along the front windows. A chorus of hellos sound.

“It’s almost like you invited a real artist,” Octavia jokes, turning around to stick her tongue out at Clarke who returns the gesture.

“Help me with this?” Kane asks with a roll of his eyes.

Octavia takes one of the boxes and starts unpacking. It’s the last of the decorations for the night, vases and shiny rocks and little sprigs and things to be arranged by the catering staff. Her stomach rumbles. Hopefully they have time for dinner and she won’t just be trying to survive on hors d’œuvres all night.

She’s done that before; it isn’t fun, not when you’re trying to keep straight who you’re allowed to touch and who you’re allowed to kiss and the alcohol is more plentiful than the food. The alcohol is always in abundance when money and art are being consumed.

“Want to go get that girl of yours for me?” Kane asks as he passes by Octavia, empty boxes in hand.

Octavia’s head snaps up and she can almost feel the color drain from her face. It’s not like she and Clarke hadn’t been together when Clarke started working for Kane, and they’d never officially, publicly broken up, but there’s something in his voice that makes her think he almost said more. She glances back at everyone, knowing he means Clarke, but Clarke isn’t the only one that’s hers.

“Sure thing.”

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke closes the door to Kane’s office behind her as she enters. There had been a look in Octavia’s eyes as she had relayed his message that brought up the worrying feeling from earlier. Their secret is getting too big to keep.

His office is simple, bare of decoration, a desk, a computer, piles of paper, three chairs including his own and the couch they moved in here one time because they needed the floor space and refused to ever try to fit through the door again. Kane doesn’t use the room for anything but essential paperwork, preferring the lounge in the back corner of the gallery for meetings, anything to keep him out of this little closet. Their work is about people and space and art, and all of that happens in the open area they transform for each new show.

“So tonight, which one of…” Kane’s voice trails off and he waves his hand at the gallery, still rifling through papers. “Them are you bringing.”

Clarke’s heart drops into her stomach and she fights down the rising panic. She smiles, trying to channel Lexa’s cool calm exterior that doesn’t betray her, and leans back in the chair, one arm across the back of it so she can lean her head against her hand. Clarke crosses her legs before letting out a small laugh, because at the very least she can play this off as nothing. She’s brought each of them in the past, tonight would be no different.

“Lexa agreed to be on my arm tonight, as a friend, as always. She said it might help me sell a few pieces as several of the clients at the firm have mentioned they were attending tonight.”

“You know you don’t have to bring them as your friends.”

Clarke tenses and her gaze darts to the floor before her eyes can betray the tight panic gripping her. They’ve been careful. So careful. She hates outright denying their relationship, even though in some situations it’s for the best.

She hears Kane shift in his seat waiting for her answer. His voice is low and even like he’s trying his best not to startle her, “I hope you know you can trust me after the two years you’ve worked here. This gallery is a safe space.”

“Of course!” Clarke tears her eyes from the floor and looks back to Kane, “What makes you think I have anyone to bring as more than a friend.”

What she doesn’t expect is a slight reddening of her boss’ cheeks, or the way he averts his gaze. “Abby let something slip over drinks the other night.”

“Oh- _oh._ ” Clarke looks away because all she can think about is why Kane and her mother were getting drinks together, and she really doesn’t want that image in her head.

Awkward silence stretches between them because they both know more than they should know about each other’s personal lives. Clarke’s head spins. Kane took her mother on a date, and her mother hadn’t said anything about it yet. Or that she accidently spilled the only secret Clarke has asked her to keep. The only one that really mattered. That would have to be dealt with later.

“Well, whatever my mother may or may not have said, if you could not repeat it to anyone we would appreciate that.” Clarke stands up and turns to leave, she needs to get out of this office before he says it outright, before she’s knows without a doubt that he knows she’s in a polyamorous relationship she’s been working hard to keep a secret. She needs air. She needs to breathe. “Unless there is anything else?’

Kane shakes his head, but he’s smiling, “No, Clarke. Just, they’re lovely, and I meant what I said. It’s safe here. _You’re_ safe here. I understand tonight is stressful, and this is your biggest show yet, but I wouldn’t have given you the show unless I thought you could sell it. The number of RSVPs we have is impressive.”

Clarke nods, not sure if that makes her feel better or not about Kane knowing about the nature of her relationship. “I’m sure then, you understand our need for discretion?”

“I can see why you want it, if not for yourself, then, for them. Whenever the public becomes involved things can sway in unanticipated directions.”

“Even when the public isn’t involved,” Clarke mutters half to herself.

Kane chuckles. “Don’t be too hard on Abby. I plied her with wine and leading questions.”

“Right,” Clarke stands suddenly not wanting to hear anymore and not certain of where this conversation will end up. “If that’s all,” Clarke nearly trips over the chair she was just sitting in as she bolts out of Kane’s office. Their carefully constructed charade is starting to unravel.

## _______________________________________

 

“You know, I never heard how the four of you ended up together,” Jasper glances down at Raven who is handing him nails while he hammers them into the lines she had him draw earlier.

“Are you certain those lines are straight, Jasper?” Raven cocks her head to the side.

“Straighter than half the people in this room,” Jasper mumbles.

“Excuse you?”

Jasper grabs the next nail from Raven and turns back to the wall, “Nothing, prof.”

Raven smacks Jasper’s leg, “Check them again before you start hanging the paintings.”

“What is this, class?”

Lincoln picks up the laser level with a silent laugh and hands it to Jasper. “It’s more important than that. This is your first art show, you’ll learn.”

“Don’t scare Raven’s minion. He doesn’t have his other half with him,” Octavia teases. “Where is Monty anyway?”

“He’s got to keep an eye on the lab today, make sure the undergrads don’t blow anything up.”

“That’s actually a risk,” Raven deadpans and glances up at Jasper.

She watches him stammer for a moment, fear flashing across his face, as his attention turns to her prosthetic. Raven lost half her leg in a lab explosion in her third year of grad school, some idiot undergrad punctured an oxygen tank sending it rocketing across the lab and shattering her knee. She’s wearing shorts today and the resulting reality is hard to miss. Raven laughs, “I’m joking, Jasper. Mostly anyway… but calm down, dude.”

Jasper nods rapidly and turns back to checking to make sure his lines are level. There’s a shift around the room as Abby and Anya return from their trip to take out the trash and recycling. The gallery is almost clean and they’re that much closer to being done with the set up. Octavia helps Lincoln hand the first painting to Jasper. He takes it carefully, clearly nervous and not wanting to let it drop as he hangs the wire carefully across the nails.

“If I'm giving up my Saturday to hang paintings for my boss’ girlfriend’s art show, I at least want to hear the story behind how the four of you got together. Because if that hadn’t happened I wouldn’t be fearing for my life while I try to help hang a painting worth more than my tuition.”

A mixture of groans and laughter echo throughout the room because many of them were privy to the dramatics of the courtship. It was a long two years before Clarke, Octavia, Lexa, and Raven settled in to each other and their relationship, and it wasn’t without tribulation.

Anya sets down the piece she and Lexa are working on hanging and drapes herself over one of the couches with an exasperated sigh, “Sit down, kid. You're in for a long story.”

“How did it start?” Jasper asks, finally letting go of the painting with what is a clear prayer that it not fall.

Clarke walks back into the center of the gallery, heart still pounding from Kane’s admission. She slides back into the group silently, trying to not look panicked, and trying not to drag her mother off to discuss what are and aren’t appropriate topics of conversation. She lets out a breath and tries to shake some of the tension from her limbs. Raven tries to catch her eye but Clarke isn’t ready for the wordless conversation that follows Raven’s raised eyebrow. Before she can decide what she wants Raven is by her side, wrapping arms around her waist.

She whispers in Clarke’s ear, “Everything okay?”

Clarke nods and smiles, pressing a small kiss to Raven’s cheek. Raven tilts her head to the side, questioning, but not arguing, knowing that normally Clarke would have already found a way to slip out of her arms by now with Kane nearby.

“It starts with Octavia and me nearly breaking up because of Lexa,” Clarke rasps, leaning against Raven.

Lexa rolls her eyes, “Through no fault of my own.”

“You’ve never met you,” Octavia adds defensively.

Jasper climbs down from the ladder and plops into a chair next to Anya, reaching for a bottle of water. “Wait, so you nearly broke them up because you existed?”

“This pretty face cannot be tamed.” Lexa gestures to herself with a laugh, “It’s not my fault O fell head over heels in love with me the first time she saw me.”

“You were an incessant flirt.”

Raven snorts, “Were?” and Lexa smacks her ass with a length of cardboard.

“Me?” Lexa straightens up with mock indignation as she glances over at Octavia, “Do you even remember who seduced whom? And terribly I might add.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Clarke says with a wry smile.


	2. The Seduction of Lexa Woods part 1 | 2 years 8 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to the first chapter was incredible! Thank you all so much for sharing your excitement :)

Octavia leans heavily against the counter, her hands curled around a styrofoam cup filled with bitter coffee that’s too hot to actually drink, hoping that inhaling caffeine will be enough to wake her up. Fixing her gaze on the off-tan colored linoleum she tries to think about work and not how her relationship is slowly coming undone. She has a debriefing in fifteen minutes and her brain still hasn’t wrapped around the idea of being awake.

Neither she nor Clarke had slept much last night, too busy arguing to go to bed until an obscene hour in the morning. Lately that had become the norm, which wasn’t all that abnormal. This was her yearly exercise in patience, Clarke was rarely herself around the anniversary of her father’s death, and this one was no exception. They just had to make it through the storm.

So far they’d always found a way, but this year it was worse, different. Everything Octavia did set Clarke off.

“Good morning, Officer Blake,” the words are a soft purr and Octavia doesn’t have to look up to know the newest district attorney, Lexa Woods, is walking towards her. Or that there’s a hint of a smile on Lexa’s lips, because she only uses that voice with people she actually likes, and so far Octavia is fairly certain she’s the only one on the list. 

Octavia can’t stop the smile that plays on her lips. Her heart speeds up and she sinks her teeth into the inside of her cheek. She can count on one hand the people that have caused this kind of reaction in her. The list should have ended with Clarke, but it doesn’t anymore. She shouldn’t want to see if Lexa is smiling at her. Octavia looks up anyway because there’s a quiet beauty in the way Lexa smiles and even half asleep she wants to see it. 

Her stomach twists as she realizes she’s only ever felt this way about two other people in her entire life: Lincoln and Clarke.

“District Attorney Woods,” Octavia fights a grin and hides behind her cup, composing herself as Lexa pours her own cup of over brewed coffee before settling in next to her against the counter. The room is empty except them and she’s glad for it. On some level they just get each other. They don’t need to fill the silence with small talk, and Octavia is very glad they share that trait.

Because it’s still too early for conversation, and she can’t help but notice how attractive Lexa is, or how her heart seems to stop when Lexa smiles at her. And how Lexa seems to keep stealing glances and looking away again just as Octavia’s gaze shifts to her. Lexa twists and reaches behind Octavia for a packet of sugar, her arm brushes against Octavia’s and they both freeze, closer to each other than they should be.

Octavia licks her lips and bites down on her bottom one to stop the involuntary reaction. Lexa’s eyes are a shade of green she could lose herself in and Octavia doesn’t miss how they flick to her lips.

Octavia turns back to her coffee and sips at it even though it’s still too hot. She reminds herself her girlfriend is at home, hiding underneath their duvet, because they were up until stupid o’clock fighting. Her girlfriend that she loves more than anything.

As Lexa settles back in next to her against the counter Octavia finds herself incredibly glad Lexa doesn’t mind drinking terrible coffee in silence. 

The silence doesn’t last long.

“Well, what do we have here?” Officer Atom saunters into the break room, and Octavia is certain it’s too early for both Atom and sauntering. “The tiny little detective and her protective robot, I mean, lawyer,” he sneers.

Octavia takes half a step forward, but Lexa stops her with a hand on her arm.

“You probably spent all night coming up with that, you should be proud,” Lexa smiles, but her eyes are cold. There’s something incredibly unnerving about it.

Octavia nearly snorts hot coffee out of her nose trying to hold back a laugh.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa glances back into the dimly lit supply closet at the brunette woman pulling up her pantyhose and zipping up her skirt and sighs. She’s already forgotten the woman’s name - all she can think is that thigh highs are infinitely more practical, and however pretty, the mail clerk isn’t who she wanted. It’s better this way. It doesn’t hurt when they don’t call her back because she never gives them her number. They can’t break her heart if she never lets them in.

She can’t be left if she’s the one that leaves first.

Lexa smooths down her shirt again, ruby colored silk, and steps out of the supply closet, shutting the door behind her without a word. Someone clears their throat and Lexa tightens every muscle in her body as she stays rooted to the floor, refusing to show whoever is behind her that they startled her. She squares her shoulders, pressing her lips into a thin line, and narrowing her eyes as she slowly turns. Anya, her foster sister, best friend, and endless pain in her ass. 

Lexa rolls her eyes.

“Really, fucking in a closet? Isn’t that a bit...  _ cliché _ ?”

“Keep your voice down.” Lexa glances behind them but the hallway is empty.

Anya snorts, “Why? She didn’t.”

Lexa sighs dramatically and falls into step next to Anya. “Her loss, it won’t be happening again. What are you doing here?”

“We had a lunch date, remember?”

“Fuck. I’ve got a new case and I’ve got to go debrief the detective in charge of the case.”

“Which one?”

Lexa doesn’t answer because she doesn’t want to have the ensuing conversation with Anya that she knows will follow when she mentions Octavia.

Anya stops, her arms folded carefully across the front of her cream silk blouse. Lexa keeps walking but pauses and turns when she realizes Anya isn’t beside her. She nods her head towards the elevator and keeps on down the hall. After a moment she hears the click on Anya’s stilettos on the tile floor as she catches up just before the elevator doors close.

She’d rather not have this conversation.

“Just so I’m clear. You decided to fuck the random mail clerk in the closet before the meeting with the hot detective you have a thing for because that way you wouldn’t be tempted to bend her over the interrogation room table?” There’s an edge of a laugh in Anya’s voice, and Lexa hates that she’s right, because she’s always right.

“It isn’t like that with Octavia.”

“You’re on a first name basis now.”

“I think she has a girlfriend.”

“With the way she flirts with you? Poor girl.” Anya nudges Lexa’s shoulder with her own. 

Lexa frowns. She doesn’t really want to think about this because she likes working with Octavia and there’s no point in ruining it with a tumble in a closet that won’t even turn into drinks after work. It’s not that she couldn’t take someone, or even Octavia, out for drinks and bring them home, she just doesn’t see the point when all they bring is pain when they stick around longer than it takes to get off - and there’s really no point in paying for drinks when she can convince someone to get her off with a couple of well placed smiles and the light touch of a hand.

“Don’t make her one of your girls of the week. Screwing the secretary pool doesn’t make you feel better about what happened with Costia, it never does, besides, the way you talk about Octavia, she sounds like she has potential.”

Before Lexa can respond Anya is already through the open elevator door and halfway down the hall. She checks her watch: fifteen minutes to clean up before her meeting, and there’s no time to take care of what the mail clerk didn’t.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia opens up three beers against the counter, two for her and one for her brother, Bellamy, though he isn’t home yet. She tips one of the beers back, finishing it in one go. It’s been a hell of a day: she nearly died.

Reaching into the back of the cabinet above the fridge she grabs the bottle of whiskey and pours herself two consecutive shots. Her hands are shaking still from her almost crash at work this afternoon.

Nearly dying might be an exaggeration, but it doesn’t feel like it.

She falls onto the couch, hooking her feet up over the armrest. This week has been too much already, she and Clarke have been fighting and not talking and not touching and not sleeping, and work has been hell. She can still feel the whiskey burn in her throat and she almost gets up to pour herself another shot just to revel in the warmth blossoming through her.

The ceiling in Bellamy’s apartment is old and gross, popcorn textured like in the seventies. Even though he claims to clean, it’s riddled with spiderwebs and dangling bits of spackle. 

Clarke is going to kill her once she finds out about the high speed chase. If she finds out. Maybe it’s for the best that they’re in the middle of a fight, she can gloss over the fact that she nearly wrecked her motorcycle doing more than one hundred on the highway. Clarke tends to panic when Octavia goes off adrenaline seeking and she understands why, it’s just that sometimes she can’t help it, and it isn’t always a guarantee that her little adventures will set Clarke off on a downward spiral. It’s a calculated risk she takes.

It’ll probably never come up; there are bigger problems than Octavia not crashing her motorcycle that they have to get through first.

She just feels like she came a hair’s breadth away from it all going terribly wrong. She’s wrecked before, but never going so fast. The scrape of the concrete and the blinding clarity of pain. Her world flashed by when that wobble of her front tire nearly sent her horizontal against the pavement. She didn’t wreck though, and the adrenaline coursing through her veins makes her feel more alive than she has in weeks.

Octavia Blake is fucking up her personal life spectacularly.

She’s restless. The more restless she feels the more she needs to feel adrenaline pumping through her to feel even remotely alive, but every time she does something too risky Clarke panics. That’s not entirely fair. Clarke doesn’t panic, but the worry adds up and Clarke starts acting not like Clarke. Except it’s exactly like her because this is what happens when she starts spiraling out of control.

And Octavia doesn’t know what to do to stop it. 

And when Octavia can’t fix her problems she seeks out adrenaline. It’s vicious cycle. This one is compounded though by the fact that the whole cycle started when a certain District Attorney started picking up all of Octavia’s cases at work.

Lexa Woods, District Attorney, is going to be the final reason Octavia screws things up with Clarke and she has a feeling there is nothing she can do about it because the flirting has already happened. She isn’t sure if it even matters that it’s been nothing more than that. It doesn’t. All she can do is try to make things right and hope that Clarke forgives her. There’s no reason Clarke  _ should _ forgive her.

She had been sent out on patrols after a lunch meeting with Lexa who was looking mildly dishevelled with her hair wild like someone had been burying their hands in it, when the near wreck happened. She had been distracted, her thoughts flitting between Clarke and Lexa. Octavia breathes out and takes a sip of her beer. It doesn’t matter who Lexa is or isn’t screwing because it can’t, it won’t, be her. Closing her eyes her hands fall to her stomach resting on the small patch of skin where her shirt has pulled up.

Patrols had started out calmly enough, but she’d been called in to pursue a subject fleeing a hit and run. Her motorcycle rumbling between her legs as she pushed it faster on the highway trying to catch up, eighty, ninety, one hundred. Any moment, one wrong move and everything could be over. The adrenaline pushed into her system and the potential for death excited her. She was alive and nothing else mattered. It was a sort of aphrodisiac feeling that close to death, being that alive.

Her fingertips slide against the soft skin just behind the button of her jeans and she knows she shouldn’t take care of the ache between her legs because this is Bellamy’s apartment and he’ll be home from work at any minute, but the idea of being caught excites her and the beer and whiskey she’s already finished buzzing around her head nudges out any reservations she has.

Deftly she flicks open the button of her jeans and slides her hand into her underwear, finding herself already slick with arousal. She isn’t surprised; the fear and panic of the unknown turns her on and it’s not like she and Clarke have had sex recently. Or done anything intimate. She slips a finger in tighter circles around her clit then adds a second, biting her lip.

Octavia isn’t certain how any of this happened. She isn’t one to get crushes on people, and if she does they’re accompanied by very real feelings, which is why Lexa has her so confused. For years Clarke has been the only person Octavia wanted. The only person she needed. And now she’s aching for two people and she doesn’t know what to do. 

That’s probably why she took the chance and almost wrecked her motorcycle taking that turn today.

That’s why her fingers are slipping furiously around her clit as she feels that tendril deep inside wind tighter and tighter drawing her closer to climax even as she knows Bellamy could come home at any minute.

It’s why she plays with fire, because it makes her feel in control.

The sound of a key in the lock and the door creaking open registers too late for her to stop. It’s like she’s sixteen again, trying to find a moment alone in their one bedroom apartment, because the ache between her thighs is too much. She can’t stop her orgasm already tipping over the edge as the door opens. Octavia throws her arm across her mouth and bites down to keep from crying out as her body convulses. At least she’s hidden from view and Bellamy can’t see that she has her hand down her pants.

“Hey, Bell,” Octavia breathes out, forcing herself to sound calm while she slips her hand out of her underwear and licks her fingers clean, because it’s not like she can wipe them on the dark brown couch. With her other hand she zips up her jeans.

“O, what are you-” Bellamy stops as he comes around to the front of the couch and looks down at his sister. “Seriously? Don’t you have your own apartment to do that in?”

He’s walked in on her enough times to know what she looks like when she’s trying to hide the fact that she’s been masturbating. Truth of it was, he probably knows more about her sex life than any brother ever wants to. She’s always had a thing for risking being caught. It’s led to a lot of interruptions over the years.

Octavia shrugs and sits up handing the last beer to Bellamy as she does, he takes it and folds into the recliner.

“Clarke and I are fighting.”

“That’s not exactly news.”

“I nearly wrecked my motorcycle and I wanted to calm down before I went home.”

“What the fuck were you doing?” Bellamy sits forward, leaning his forearms on his knees. Octavia tries to ignore the evident anger underneath the surprise.

“There was a high speed chase.” Octavia curls into the corner of the couch, the euphoria and high from the orgasm receding quickly like a the tail end of a wave being pulled back into the ocean.

“Do you ever stop to think that maybe it doesn’t have to be you that saves the day?” Bellamy stands up in an explosion of movement, pointing at her as his voice gets louder and louder, and pacing around the coffee table. Octavia sips on her beer and stares at the floor to avoid eye contact.

“You’re always running after the things that could get you hurt or killed. Bungee jumping, parachuting, base diving, parkour. Do you even think about what your little stunts do to Clarke? To the rest of us? And then at work, all I hear is how you caught the criminal that was twice your size, you were the one with a gun at your head, you were the one that nearly got in a wreck taking down a man in a high speed chase.”

“You realize it’s my job to do that?” Octavia’s voice is quiet but cutting.

“When things get hard at home you take risks you shouldn’t!” Then quieter, “And when you get scared you start drinking just like-”

“-I’m paid to take risks no one should have to take!” Octavia yells. She doesn’t want to hear what Bellamy has to say. She doesn’t want to think about the possibility that maybe she’s turning into their mother.

Octavia finishes off the beer in her hand and pushes to her feet. She’s unsteady and can feel the alcohol starting to swim in her head. This isn’t the first time they’ve argued about her job, or her need for adrenaline, or her drinking habit. Right now she doesn’t need this.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, at least Clarke will just ignore me.” Octavia blinks back tears as she puts on her jacket and clenches her teeth, her jaw tight as if she can hold herself together by clamping her mouth shut.

“I’ll take you.”

“I’m fine, Bellamy.”

“I said I’m taking you. I’m not letting you drive like this.”

Octavia doesn’t bother to tell him she’d gotten a lift from Lincoln after work, too shaken to get on her on motorcycle and ride home.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke rolls over, turning to look at the back of Octavia’s head instead of the wall. In the tiny double bed they are barely six inches apart but it feels like a canyon between them. Clarke doesn't know how to cross it. Something drove a wedge between them and no matter how hard she scrambles they keep sliding further and further apart.

She was asleep when Octavia came home, Bellamy’s voice at the door and the smell of cheap beer told her exactly where her girlfriend has been all night. At least Octavia was safe. Clarke presses herself up tighter against the wall and it’s cold against her bare back where the duvet pulls up, she shivers and curls her knees up to her chest, one hand outstretched, a finger hooked around a strand of dark brown hair that’s fallen loose from the bun on top of her girlfriend’s head. It’s nearly four in the morning and Clarke should be asleep, but she can’t sleep, not with this heaviness in her heart, not when they’re fighting. 

She’s envious of Octavia; she could sleep through the nuclear apocalypse and not notice.

Rain pounds against the window above her head, a storm raging outside, but that isn’t what woke her up. Her stomach tightens and constricts the pang of hunger fading into pain and then discomfort. She squeezes her eyes shut and pulls her hand back into her little ball of safety, her teeth working on the dry skin around her nails rough from paint and cleaner. Octavia has been keeping something from her, lying, distancing herself and the worry that their relationship is over creeps up on her, that after all these years of friendship and being together, giggling at two a.m. and taking naps at one p.m., burnt dinners and takeout in front of the TV, getting lost in forests and art galleries, but never having to be alone, this is the end. 

She’s tried to talk to her but Octavia brushes it off, says it’s nothing, but Clarke hasn’t slept in three days because this isn’t nothing.

She’s almost certain Octavia is falling for the district attorney she never stopped talking about until two weeks ago the first night Clarke felt this clawing in the pit of her stomach. Lexa or something like that, apparently ninety percent legs and one hundred percent deadly sass. Octavia has never been good with math.

Clarke slips out from underneath the duvet. If she isn’t going to fall asleep again she’ll paint. Maybe she can finish the piece she wants to take to her meeting with the owner of Gallery 2149, he asked to see three pieces and right now she only has two. If she doesn’t have a third by next Friday she might as well not even go, but she needs this chance because Gallery 2149 is the biggest gallery downtown and a show there could make or break her career, even if right now, she’ll just be set up in a corner of the gallery, her name in small print. 

This is the last week she needs her relationship to be falling apart, or maybe it’s the perfect week for it, there’s no reason to spend any extra time in bed.

##  _______________________________________

 

Two and a half hours later there’s a knock on her studio door, Clarke glances at it only long enough to see Octavia slide into the small room before turning back to her painting. She hasn’t moved since she sat down and she’s wearing as much paint as the canvas is. Her arms and shoulders ache and there’s a crick in her neck. Outside the sun is coloring the sky in cotton candy streaks of pink and orange and there’s frost on the thin single pane glass of the window. A car horn blares down on the street below and Clarke closes her eyes, it’s decidedly too early for the city to be awake, but maybe that’s because she never really went to sleep.

Octavia’s hand wraps around hers and she gently takes the paint brush away, cleaning it before setting it to dry, in its place she places a mug of hot coffee. Her fingertips skitter over Clarke’s bare arms and she purses her lips because Clarke is cold to the touch and the dead look in her eyes and the empty bed this morning are more than enough to tell Octavia that Clarke didn’t sleep again. She knows it’s her fault, and she can’t change the way she feels but she’s trying so hard to just get over the treacherous fluttering between her ribs because Clarke has been all she’s needed for so long now since even before they got together.

There’s been something missing for a while, but somehow they’ve always made it work.

They’re falling apart.

There are a hundred things she wants to say but she doesn’t even know where to start, and deep inside her silence feels like a betrayal. The look on Clarke’s face tells her it is.

“Can I kiss you?” Octavia takes a small step closer and runs her hand up Clarke’s arm.

Clarke nods and tilts her head up as Octavia closes the distance between them. As much as she wants to be angry she isn’t, she just hurts and ever since she can remember Octavia has been the one who can make the pain stop. Octavia tastes like coffee and there’s a sad apology in her kiss. She doesn’t pull away, instead wrapping her arms around Clarke’s shoulders and leaning her forehead against her girlfriend’s. This is the first time they’ve touched in days. Clarke closes her eyes and sighs. She wants to ask what happened, what she did, or maybe what she needs to do but she doesn’t want to fight. She just wants them to be okay again.

Octavia is trembling even as she holds Clarke. She shouldn’t have come in here, she’s going to be late for work for the third time this week, and if she is she’ll have to meet with her boss, which means she’ll be late for the meeting with the D.A.’s office… which means by lunch time this entire situation will be even worse because Lexa Woods, District Attorney, will most definitely not let her tardiness go unnoticed. And Lexa paying attention to her is precisely why everything is falling apart right now. Octavia takes a step back from Clarke, even as her body protests, missing the familiar warmth the second she does.

“Can we talk when I get home?”

Clarke looks down at her coffee and shakes her head. She’s been begging Octavia to talk to her about whatever is happening for weeks now. “We’re talking now.”

“I don’t want to leave after I tell you this.” Octavia reaches out to lift Clarke’s chin so she can see the look on her face but her hand falls short, for the first time in years she’s started feeling unsure about if she can touch Clarke because she doesn’t know if the touch is wanted. It breaks a little part of her and she turns to walk out the door. It takes all her strength because she wants to fall into Clarke and make them forget that their fighting. As long as they're crashing against each other and not sliding apart maybe they still have a chance.

The fight will still be there when they pull apart.

“Then don’t leave.” Clarke’s voice is quiet, the harsh edge that was in it a minute ago gone.

“I can’t call in sick.” Even to her own ears it feels like a thin excuse and she’s fucking this up so spectacularly. She can only imagine what Clarke thinks she’s going to say, and honestly she’s probably mostly right, which only makes it worse. “Please, Clarke, babe, I feel like I’ve fucked up. I know I have.”

Every word that falls out of Octavia’s mouth is wrong.

“You can’t just tell me you fucked up and then leave and ask me to be waiting when you get home.” The anger and hurt in her voice is back and Octavia can’t blame her. Clarke’s eyes are cold, the same blue of a deep lake frozen in the depths of winter when the sun comes out, beautiful and deadly.

“This is why I didn’t want to talk about it until I got home.” Octavia crosses her arms. She didn’t want to have this fight until later, until they had the weekend to recover. It didn’t have to be a fight. She wanted to be the adult her brother is always yelling at her to be, telling her to grow up, take responsibility. Trying to have a respectful adult conversation about her relationship is about the most responsible thing she can think to do. So of course she’s messing it up. There really is no right way to go about this.

“You brought it up!” Clarke slips off her stool, her arms crossed over her chest. All she can feel is the anger rolling through her like a train without breaks. She’s going to crash and she’s going to take everything around her down in a fiery blaze. Octavia is curled in on herself where she’s leaned against the door as if she’s waiting for Clarke to lash out, and maybe she is. Their foundation is slowly crumbling as they refuse to talk about anything but talking. Clarke turns back to her painting picking up a dry brush and half-dried palette.

“Clarke, I’m worried,” Octavia is halfway across the room before she stops herself, her jaw trembling. She’s watching Clarke spiral out of control, not sleeping, not eating, not talking, not that she’s helped at all on that last point, and the last thing she should do is leave her alone but she has to go to work. If she wants a chance at a promotion she has to be better than everyone else in her department, which means showing up every day and giving more than she has even on the days when she has the least. She’s just afraid of what she might come home to. 

“I’m fine, Octavia,” Clarke snaps. If Octavia won’t talk neither will she. 

“Please eat something today.”

Octavia clenches her jaw and swallows down her tears. Nine hours and then she can make all of this right.

##  _______________________________________

 

The last thing Octavia needs is a lecture on tardiness from the chief, so she slips in the back door and heads straight for the meeting room where she knows Lexa is already waiting for their eight a.m. meeting. She’s had two texts, one asking about picking up coffee and another asking where she was with said coffee. Octavia takes a deep breath and presses the door open with her shoulder, her hands full with hot coffee from the little beanery down the street that she likes to meet Clarke at for lunch. She swallows and tries to push everything out of her head because she can’t let her guard down.

Not when Lexa looks like she just stepped off the runway. Her long chestnut hair is mostly straightened, hanging down over her shoulders, framing her face that looks like it’s been chiseled from marble. She’s wearing a deep green form fitting button up tucked into high-waisted white slacks and all Octavia can think is that her eyes look like polished jade. Lexa Woods is the eye of the storm, in her wake she leaves destruction, taking down her enemies but no one can ever touch her. 

Then she sees Octavia and a small smile pulls at the corner of that perfect mouth, and whether it’s because Octavia is there or because Octavia has coffee is unclear but none of that matters. In another world Octavia would kill to know what those lips tasted like, how that smile feels pressed against her own. But in this world she is deeply in love with Clarke Griffin and she doesn’t know how to reconcile the duality of the feelings in her heart, she just knows that she has to before everything breaks. The world insists that you can only be in love with one person at a time, but the older she gets she wonders if that’s really true. Love only lasts when you make the choice to nurture it, why couldn’t she make that choice twice.

Lexa steps away from the papers she’s been laying out on the desk, trying to prepare herself for the morning meeting with Octavia, knowing she’ll never be able to make it through without extra caffeine. Octavia has an energy about her most days that from anyone else she would find insufferable, but Octavia is intelligent and driven in a way most of the police she has to work with aren’t and she feels driven to keep herself a step ahead so she can steer Octavia towards a better path than the rest of her coworkers. She can see the potential in the woman and sometimes she regrets that she doesn’t allow herself the time to make friends. She has Anya, and that is enough. Most days anyway. There’s the slightest brush of fingertips when Lexa takes the coffee from Octavia and they both step back as if shocked, allowing there to be a proper, respectable, distance between them. Lexa reminds herself she’s almost certain Octavia is in a relationship with the gorgeous blonde in the photo on her desk, even if Octavia never talks about her. 

“Thanks, Blake.” Lexa’s voice is clear but quiet. As she sits down at the table, sipping at the coffee while she waits for her brain to engage. She can’t help but notice the dark circles under Octavia’s eyes and the way she presses her lips together in a thin smile as if it’s a decision instead of a reaction. Or the way she nearly collapses into her chair before leaning forward to start going over the file with Lexa. Once again, all work, leaving her no chance to ask if she’s okay.

Not that she would have taken it.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke walks past the precinct doors four times before she walks in. She spent most of the morning feeling terrible about everything and angry with herself over having shut Octavia down when she finally said she was willing to talk. She still hasn’t slept, and she knows that maybe this is just one of her plans that’s going to backfire because it’s too impulsive or not thought out enough, but she needs Octavia to know she’ll still be at home when she gets off work. Somehow a text just didn’t feel like it was going to cut it.

So she walks past the doors one more time, hoping none of the cops that know her have seen her pass by carrying coffee and a sandwich from the little bakery on the corner while she gets up the courage to go in. She usually doesn’t meet Octavia at work, they try to keep their relationship out of the station because it makes things easier for Octavia. It isn’t that some of her coworkers don’t know, it’s just it’s easier sometimes if some of them don’t.

There’s only fifteen minutes left on Octavia’s lunch break when Clarke finally finds it in herself to walk inside, having convinced herself that she’s already showered, dressed, walked across downtown and interacted with other people, she can’t back down now. Besides the coffee in her hand is black with sugar like Octavia likes it, and she’d never be able to drink it.

Octavia isn’t at her desk, but a woman that looks more like a modern day greek statue is perched on the edge of it, hands clasped lightly in her lap as she looks around the office. The high waisted white slacks she’s wearing only accentuate how long her legs are and Clarke is nearly certain that this is the woman she’s probably going to lose Octavia to. Her heart jumps into her throat and she nearly runs over Lincoln, Octavia’s long ago ex, and one of Clarke’s only friends in the precinct.

“Clarke!” Lincoln wraps his arms around her in a bear hug before she can respond practically picking her up off the ground. She lets him without protest, and holds onto him tightly. Lincoln has been around so long he’s practically family. He’s the reason Octavia even realized she’d make a good cop. “Everything alright?”

“Of course,” Clarke flashes her brightest smile. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Lincoln with the truth, she would, but it’s not her place to start drama at work, and something tells her there might already be enough drama surrounding the leggy brunette sitting on her girlfriend’s desk. “Who’s the Aphrodite lookalike?” Clarke nods her head in the general direction of the woman.

Lincoln looks over his shoulder. “That would be District Attorney Lexa Woods. She’s been dealing with most of Octavia’s cases lately. She’s quiet, mildly terrifying, but mostly harmless unless you have to face off against her in court.”

“And hot, you forgot hot.”

“I thought you had that covered with Aphrodite lookalike.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and shoves Lincoln playfully. “So where’s O?”

He glances at the clock, “She probably stepped out for a walk to one of the food carts down the street, should be back soon.”

“Thanks,” Clarke sighs and walks towards Octavia’s desk, figuring that she should at least try to talk to her before running back home, even if her peace offering in the shape of lunch would be pointless by the time Octavia gets back. It wouldn't hurt to get a feel for this woman anyway. She can pretend to be civil for ten minutes. 

The office is open and high ceilinged, the windows along the street side wall extending at least a story in height, leaving the room bright on even dark days. It’s busy and most of the other police officers barely spare her a glance as she weaves through the desks, they’ve seen her before and aside from a few people, like Lincoln, they don’t have much reason to say hello.

Clarke stops in front of Octavia’s desk. Usually she would just plop down in the chair and put her feet up on the desk but Lexa is perched on the edge of it, still looking the other direction, and Clarke isn’t about to give her any advantage by letting Lexa loom over her. Even if she does look like she might be a few inches taller. It really is all in the legs and with the way she’s sitting and the heels Clarke put on, she’s just the slightest bit taller at the moment.

She clears her throat slightly and Lexa’s head whips around to look at her. Clarke isn’t ready to meet the piercing green eyes staring into hers, or the way she can feel the exasperation and ennui rolling off of her. Lexa is above it all and Clarke is almost sure it has nothing to do with her and everything to do with the officers she can see blatantly staring at her even as they give her a wide berth. Power rolls off her.

Lexa doesn’t smile, and there’s a moment where they both wonder who will break the silence first. “You are?” Lexa’s raises an eyebrow.

Clarke’s eyes flit to the single framed photo on Octavia’s desk, the one of Clarke and Octavia on New Year’s Eve a few months after they had started dating. It is old, but one of Clarke’s favorite pictures of them. Octavia had jumped on Clarke’s back and was draped over her, a ridiculous New Years tiara on her head, neither of them were looking at the camera. They were happy.

“Clarke, the  _ girlfriend _ of the person who owns this desk, and you are?”

Lexa purses her lips, and Clarke only sees the barest hint of surprise line her eyes, her face remains impassive, as if the news has no effect on her whatsoever. Inside though Lexa is cursing herself for even entertaining the idea that Octavia had been flirting with her. She’s noticed the photograph on the desk, but since Octavia had never mentioned a girlfriend - and the photo is quite a few years old if the silly tiara with the year emblazoned on it is any indication - she didn’t ever think much about the hot blonde in the photo. Except now the hot blonde in question is standing in front of Lexa looking vaguely haughty, a little exhausted, and she has a name to go with the face. 

Lexa wonders how much she’s managed to ruin between them as she remembers the bags under Octavia’s eyes for the past few days. She stays silent for a moment too long, only speaking again when she sees the question still lingering in Clarke’s eyes. 

“Lexa Woods,” she holds out her hand. “I’m the district attorney assigned to several of Officer Blake’s cases.”

Both of them go in for a firm handshake and there’s an immediate challenge to it. Lexa’s hand is cool and dry in Clarke’s but she likes the way her thin fingers feel wrapped around her palm and that Lexa doesn’t back down when she tightens her grip, doesn’t blink as she stares her down. The handshake lasts longer than it should and Lexa wonders if Clarke knows that she’s been flirting with Octavia for the past month. It’s not like she had known Octavia is taken. Lexa lets go, letting her hand fall back into her lap.

“I’m supposed to be meeting her to discuss a case, but she’s running late.” A hint of a smile flickers on her lips but it dies before she lets it manifest; Lexa wonders if she can make up for something she’s afraid to admit to in case she made it all up in her head.

Clarke feels the corner of her mouth tug towards a smile in response even as she doesn’t want to. “Yeah, O has never really been all that great at punctuality.”

Lexa holds back a laugh, but it spills into her eyes, and Clarke watches as she melts from a beautiful marble statue into someone warm and soft for just a split second before the mask goes back up, cold and immovable. “No, it definitely isn’t her strong suit in the morning.”

“So you’re the reason for all her early morning meetings she’s been whining about?”

Lexa lifts her shoulders in a slight gallic shrug. She’s heard the other end of the complaints, but they always come accompanied with a cup of coffee so she finds it endearing. And she knows Octavia probably hasn’t actually been complaining about her, but she does feel bad that Clarke has heard so much about her and yet Octavia’s never felt comfortable enough to mention Clarke or even a nameless girlfriend. She thought maybe there had been a chance they might become friends one day. “That, however, makes you the one that keeps her up all night and therefore unprepared for eight a.m..”

Clarke hums an assent, trying not to be thrown by Lexa’s directness. It really isn’t any of Lexa’s business what she and Octavia do or do not do. When they’re not fighting they’re doing a lot of each other, but that’s rather beside the point, and not something she needs to affirm out loud.

“Yeah, but which one of us is having more fun keeping her awake?”

Clarke freezes because she didn’t exactly mean to say that aloud, and she doesn’t want to know if there’s actually been something going on between Octavia and Lexa. She doesn’t think there is, but Lexa is twice as gorgeous as she had imagined. It takes all her willpower to keep from bolting, and Lexa’s silence does nothing to assuage the mortification bubbling up inside her. 

She glances at her watch, as if she has somewhere to be. She does, just about anywhere but here, but nowhere specific. “I have to go, otherwise I’m never going to make it back to the museum before my next class. It was great meeting you.” Clarke barely finishes before turning and power walking out of the precinct making a face at herself as she does because she has no idea how what just happened, happened, only that Lexa is far more attractive than Clarke had bargained for and she needs to get sleep and step up her game if she’s going to have any chance at this. 

Lexa watches Clarke’s blonde hair bounce over her shoulders as she retreats quickly not sure which of them is more embarrassed by the exchange. Now she has a list of things she needs to talk to Octavia about, the first being what exactly Octavia thinks she’s doing flirting with her when she has a girlfriend, even if Clarke is a bit intense. The last few years since that photo were taken have done well by Clarke though.

It doesn’t take much longer before Octavia shows back up, and Lexa is almost thankful Clarke took off before Octavia returned. There’s only so much drama she can handle and both of the women have proven to be enough on their own. That doesn’t mean she’s going to let this encounter slide. Clarke definitely tried to intimidate her, and maybe rightfully so. Still, Lexa Woods does not back down from a challenge.

“Hey, O.” Lexa raises a perfectly arched eyebrow as she watches Octavia stride toward her, a small bounce in her step. No one else at work calls Octavia by the nickname and she watches as panic flashes through her eyes for just a split second. “I met your girlfriend. She brought you lunch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Clarke's officially met Lexa. Not exactly the friendliest of meetings was it?


	3. The Seduction of Lexa Woods part 2 | 2 years 8 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys. Just thank you for all the love? Seriously.

Lexa sprawls across Anya’s oversized sectional couch. She’s stripped off her suit jacket and her heels and ignored any protests from her foster sister about her shirt wrinkling.  _ It’s the end of the day, I’m going home next, not going out _ . Of course Anya’s reply to that had been,  _ well maybe you should be going out _ . 

In one hand dangles a glass of rosé that she’s been sipping on for the last twenty minutes because Anya knows better than to try to force Lexa to do anything. Her other arm is thrown across her eyes, blocking out the apartment, which feels more like home to her than her own place, and the view out the floor to ceiling windows. Down the hill the city spreads out below, the river cutting a winding path through town. Downtown rises in the distance, a handful of skyscrapers and old brick buildings surrounded by green.

Lexa’s heart is heavy and she hates that she let herself feel a moment of hope. It comes at a price, and like all other four letter words, hope is a terrible, regrettable thing.

“It can’t have been that bad.”

Lexa fixes Anya with a stare, peeking out from underneath her arm to do so. She squints against the sunlight streaming in through the windows, giving the cream and burnt orange room life. Right now she just wants to sink into the oversized couch and pretend nothing exists outside this loft on the hill. She had been completely unprepared for the blonde from the photo to show up and announce that she was Octavia’s girlfriend. Not while she was waiting for Octavia to see if she wanted to grab lunch. It had been foolish and meeting Clarke only proved that. “She knows.”

“Knows what, that you’ve got a thing for her girlfriend?”

“She tried to bruise my hand when we shook. I’m causing problems in a relationship I’m not even in.” Lexa sits up just enough to finish the glass of wine and sets it down on the mahogany coffee table, careful to make sure she uses one of the marble coasters. “This is why I don’t get close to anyone, why I hate dating. Love is weakness and distraction and pain. It isn’t worth it.”

Lexa curls up on her side, clutching a cream colored throw pillow to her chest, and watching Anya’s reaction as she continues. Anya fixes her with that stare that she has, the one that Lexa knows means  _ you’re an idiot _ . 

“You aren’t a part of this. You’re a constant, a given. I know what to expect from you.” Lexa tosses the pillow at Anya, quickly replacing it with the red afghan that hangs over the back of the couch. 

“Good, then I won’t have to say it.”

“I’m not going on another blind date.”

Anya rolls her eyes, “It’s been three years since you let me set you up on one.”

Lexa raises an eyebrow as if to say that her point has been proven.

“You can’t just keep fucking mail clerks and secretaries in the supply closet, Lexa. As fun as it is, you need someone to come home to.”

“I have you.”

“We live on opposite sides of the city.”

“We video chat every day, what more do I need?”

Anya sits back in her chair and sips at her wine. She isn’t looking at Lexa; instead she’s studying the view out of her bay window. Her house is situated on the side of one of the hills on the edge of downtown, so the city is spread out before them, bright lights slowly moving in the growing dark. The view is worth more than the house itself; Anya did pretty well making a name for herself in the fashion industry and could probably retire now if she wanted to, but she’s having too much fun making an even bigger name for herself.

Their parents would be proud if they were still around; they’re not though, killed in a ski accident only a few years after she and Anya had been officially adopted. Lexa adds another bullet point to her argument that relationships of any kind only leave you in heartbreak and pain. Too many people in her life have died and too many have walked away. She tells herself life is easier when she’s alone.

Anya’s voice is almost a whisper, “You aren’t living, Lexa. I hate to see you like this.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia sits on the edge of the bed gingerly, almost afraid to be there. When she opened the front door everything was wrong. The smell of burnt toast hit her first. Clarke’s shoes and jacket were crumpled in a heap on the floor, her bag dropped carelessly a few steps later. The refrigerator door wasn’t quite closed and there were several things removed, but left uneaten. The kitchen rag was in the middle of the floor underneath the smoke detector. Blankets they kept folded on the couch were strewn from the living area toward the bedroom. It was, in short, a mess.

She took a few moments. Slowly picking up things and straightening out the apartment. Octavia hadn’t known what kind of mood Clarke would be in when she got home but she knows she should have expected this. She knows Clarke almost better than she knows herself. No one tells you what to do when you fall in love with more than one person, when you’re so full of love it’s almost impossible to keep it to yourself. It spills out in the corners of your life and makes a mess. 

It doesn’t help that Octavia’s heart comes alive around Lexa and it feels like falling in love. 

Clarke is burrowed deep under the covers on their bed beneath a massive pile of blankets, only a few strands of blonde hair lying across the pillow give her away.

Octavia is used to chaos, but Clarke has a very organized sense of chaos about her which Octavia has learned to read, and this disaster is not that. This is what happens when things get bad inside Clarke’s head; usually only around the anniversary of her father’s death, but they’re several weeks past that.

“I met Lexa today,” Clarke’s voice is muffled as her face is still pressed against the mattress. After she left the precinct her afternoon had spiraled out of control, leaving her drained, exhausted, and questioning everything. She’s all but convinced herself Octavia is going to leave her and right now she can’t really blame her if it happens. Clarke is a mess and she knows it. 

“She mentioned meeting you.” Octavia chooses her words carefully, because in reality, Lexa had teased her mercilessly about Clarke and never mentioning that she had a gorgeous girlfriend to go home to every night.  _ If I had known I would have at least pushed our meetings to eight-thirty _ . Lexa had seemed more amused than angry, which is good considering Octavia was certain that had they ever met Clarke would have gone off on Lexa. 

They’ve all just been tiptoeing around what hasn’t happened but everyone thinks is going to, or at least might, happen. They still were. At the very least Clarke pulled herself together long enough to be civil, to be a better person than Octavia has been. “Thank you for lunch.”

“You’ve never mentioned me to her. She didn’t even know my name.”

“We don’t often talk about our personal lives.”

Clarke wills her body to respond, muscles to contract, combatting the deep-seated desire to never come out from under the duvet again. She bites back a groan as she sits up and the cooler air of the room hits her skin, warmed from hiding out underneath the blankets for the majority of the afternoon. Her gaze trails over Octavia who looks tired and sad, like she’s waiting for Clarke to lash out. Part of her wants to. She wants to hurt Octavia as much as she’s been hurting, but that’s childish. She wants so much to just give in to the impulse. Instead she flops back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. “She was sitting on your desk. The picture of us from our first new years together is  _ on your desk. _ Do you know how awkward that was?”

“Clarke, I want to make this right.” Octavia reaches out to Clarke, to touch her arm, take her hand, anything, because she can’t not be touching her right now. She expects the touch to be rebuffed but Clarke is still underneath her fingertips ghosting over the back of her forearm. Octavia lets out a breath she was holding.

Silence settles between them and Octavia watches Clarke as Clarke stares at the ceiling. This conversation should have happened sooner, it should have happened before everything got this far. But it didn’t and Octavia can’t take the omission back. She feels the way she feels and that is her burden to bear. No one else should have to hurt for her mistakes. 

Clarke turns her arm over, letting Octavia tangle their fingers together, but she doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Octavia may not have the words to articulate it yet, but this is what she’s choosing, she’s choosing the hard fight of staying put, and braces herself for the anger she expects. Whether she meant to or not she’s made a mistake, she chose to hide how she felt instead of confronting the issue head on, creating a rift between her and Clarke,.

The anger never comes. Instead Clarke breathes out in an exasperated sigh, “I get it.”

“What?”

“Lexa, I get it.” Clarke pushes up onto her elbows and looks Octavia in the eye for the first time in days as she continues. “I get why you like her. She looks like a greek goddess and is kind of a pain in the ass, but it’s  _ hot _ . And fuck, never tell her, but that smart mouth of hers is  _ attractive _ , not just in a I want to kiss you and shut you up sort of way, but I just want to sit next to her and listen to her slay all the idiots you work with. So, I get it, O. I just wish I didn’t have to lose you to her.”

Clarke flops back down on the bed and curls onto her side, looking at the wall instead of Octavia. The shock and fear on Octavia’s face is more than she can take right now. Her stomach flips over and she hates this feeling, because she understands, she really does. There’s something about Lexa and she can’t be angry at Octavia for something she’s half guilty of herself. She settles in on her side wishing she had grabbed the duvet before laying back down. 

Her next words are nearly lost they’re so quiet, “This would be so much easier if we could just both date her.” She doesn’t know if her words really are as sarcastic and biting as they sound, or she actually means them, but she lets them stand without explanation.

“What?” Clarke’s words are echoing in Octavia’s ears, that Clarke thinks she’s going to leave. After everything they’ve been through she’s going to walk away from all of it for some crush on a woman that barely deigns to give half the people she knows the time of day. She pushes onto her knees and leans over Clarke trying to get her to roll back over. “Clarke,” she tugs at her arm but Clarke resolutely stares at the wall, unwilling to be moved. “Babe, look at me.” She’s pleading because she feels panic welling up in her chest and she hates this feeling, but she can’t not push through it.

“Lexa is hot but I am not leaving you for her.” That was never what she wanted. Clarke won’t look at her though, won’t roll back over, and she knows she’s partially dealing with the unreasonable side of Clarke that comes out when things get bad. And maybe it’s a terrible idea but she’s done being ignored about this because Clarke isn’t listening and she needs her to listen right now before she breaks them up. Octavia crawls over Clarke and pushes herself into the small space between her girlfriend and the wall. She shivers as her back touches the cold, but Clarke is looking at her, and seeing her and the fear gripping her heart eases just a little. “I am still in love with you. I want you, Clarke. I picked you a long time ago and that hasn’t changed.”

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything.” A small smile flickers at the corner of Octavia’s mouth and she reaches out to lay her hand on Clarke’s waist. Octavia doesn’t want to imagine her life without Clarke, the thought is too painful to even entertain. Their knees bump together as Clarke stretches out and scoots closer, their legs tangling. “Talking with Lexa just reminds me how much I want to always come home to you.”

“Yeah?” Clarke bites her lip. She feels hopeful, thankful, grateful, but underneath it all is a current of doubt she can’t shake. This isn’t over yet, there will still be work to do but Octavia isn’t running off. She isn’t retreating, however much Clarke feels like her attitude lately deserves it. 

Octavia nods, a grin spreading across her face as she leans in to kiss Clarke. It’s soft and they melt into each other, a gentle exploration of lips, not rushed or hurried but it feels like it’s been a small forever since they really kissed each other, something more than just a routine press of lips. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll all be alright. Clarke pulls back and hides her face against Octavia’s neck pulling them flush together. Their legs tangle together until there is no space left between them as the cling tightly to each other, the immensity of the almost break up riding over them.

Clarke’s words keep rolling through Octavia’s mind.  _ If we could both just date her _ . It’s a crazy idea. She knows polyamory is a very real thing that very real people do, but no one she knows. Are they even the kind of people that could make it work without breaking everything apart? Maybe not. 

When it’s just the two of them they manage to nearly combust at regular intervals. Clarke forgets to take care of herself because she’s so busy taking care of everyone and everything else; Octavia is an impulsive adrenaline junkie. Together they’re just a bit of disaster but most of the time they manage to make it work out, just barely. Another person though could balance them out.

Or blow them up spectacularly.

This isn’t the first time they’ve come close to breaking up, it’s just the worst.

This thing with Lexa could just be a passing fancy, an infatuation spurned on by Clarke’s recent downward spiral. The last thing Octavia wants to do is ruin them. They’ve struggled for years to keep afloat, doing everything they can think of to make it work. Clarke has been her best friend since the fifth grade and her girlfriend for three years now, ever since Octavia glanced at her over a bowl of popcorn and a late night Netflix marathon and realized she was in love. 

Sometimes love alone hasn’t been enough to keep them together, but they’re both stubborn and their relationship is not something they’re likely to give up on easily. She knows though that the fluttering feeling that’s wriggling its way into her heart when she thinks about Lexa is more than just some passing infatuation.

Still, if being with Clarke has taught her anything it’s that staying in love is a choice.

Octavia feels her heartbeat speed up because the idea won’t leave and it’s going to come tumbling out of her mouth. She isn’t sure she wants to stop it. She kisses Clarke on the lips, then the nose, hands gently holding Clarke’s face as she pulls back, “How serious were you about that us both dating Lexa thing. Not like some swinging thing, but like, actually dating her. All three of us, together.”

Clarke tenses and she feels Octavia’s fluttering heartbeat. She thought her words had gone unheard or ignored, that maybe they were going to move on from this stumble in their relationship without talking about Lexa again. She knows they would have talked about Lexa again, even if not in this way; it’s foolish to believe they wouldn’t.

The air drains from the room and reality crashes around Clarke.

“What the fuck, Octavia?” Half an hour ago she thought she was breaking up with her girlfriend, then that maybe they had a chance to patch up this fight, but the tighter she holds on to hope the further it slips out of her fingers. Clarke pulls back from Octavia who looks like she’s been slapped. She can’t touch her right now, can’t look at her, can’t be in the same bed as her.

The floor is cold beneath her feet and Clarke just wants to leave. Walking out is the one thing she can’t do, all it does is hurt everyone and she isn’t that angry, yet. She keeps her back to Octavia opting instead to slam dresser drawers as she tries to find socks and sweatpants, wishing that their apartment wasn’t always cold. It never seemed like a bad thing when she had a girlfriend to curl up with; right now it’s terrible.

Octavia is right behind Clarke, refusing to let her walk away from this even as Clarke keeps turning her back. “You keep saying we need to change something.”

“Not like this.” Clarke slams the dresser drawer shut and only pauses to put on the socks she found as she glares at Octavia before brushing past her.

“This is something, and it’s not like either of us saying we need to change has actually done any good.” Octavia grabs Clarke’s hand.

Clarke wrenches it free, “Yeah, you don’t change.”

“Neither do you!” Octavia shouts back. She clenches her jaw and forces the next words out, quieter, calmer, “Lexa’s rational, which is what we need.”

“Clearly, because you’ve lost your mind.” Clarke pauses at the door one hand on the door frame and she almost looks back at Octavia, but if she does she knows she’ll lose any resolve she has. And right now she doesn’t want to back down. She hadn’t been serious about them both dating Lexa, although she’s wondering why she said it at all.

“Then we try.”

“No!” The word echoes around their apartment like it’s a cavern instead of barely enough room for two people to coexist and pierces Octavia’s skull like a hot knife.

She collapses onto the bed as she hears Clarke’s studio door slam shut. 

That blew up spectacularly.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia paces outside the door to Clarke’s studio, she’s fairly certain Clarke hasn’t left it since she slammed the door shut on Friday night and it’s now Sunday afternoon. She can’t decide if she’s more worried or angry because Clarke has been begging her to talk and now she’s the one refusing to talk. It’s fair, but it isn’t. Octavia just needs to know that Clarke hasn’t done something drastic before she leaves for work tomorrow morning.

Of all the things she hates the most about their relationship it’s Clarke shutting her out when it gets too tough.

She’s spent the last two nights on the couch, not wanting to miss Clarke opening the studio door, just for the chance to see her. Octavia isn’t angry enough to try to force a conversation right now. Still, all she has to show for the last two nights is a sore neck. The only reason she knows Clarke is still in the studio is because Clarke has been crying for the last half hour, hiccuping sobs that she’s clearly trying to hide.

The sound is a knife at her throat and Octavia trembles with it. Clarke has been her best friend for longer than not and she feels lost at the prospect of not having her around. That isn’t a future she wants to entertain. She would do anything to make things right if only Clarke could help her figure out what she needs to do. 

Clarke has always been the one to help her through the hard times. She was there every time Octavia fought with Bellamy, when she broke her arm, when her mom disappeared, when she panicked about dating Lincoln, when she decided to join the police academy, and when she fell apart after she broke up with Lincoln. There wasn’t one moment in her life in the last fifteen years that she hasn’t faced without Clarke beside her, encouraging her, sometimes not always in the right direction, but she was always there, always willing to help her put the pieces back together.

Octavia sizes up the door to Clarke’s studio like it’s a mountain she has to scale.

Maybe it is.

She doesn’t knock, her hand sliding down the wood instead, caressing the door knob before she turns to go back to the couch, not even glancing at their room, which will be empty for a third night. Octavia can’t bring herself to sleep in their bed when Clarke refuses to join her. She has to find a way to fight for them, but she can’t go back to Clarke until she figures it out.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke tucks her knees up to her chest and presses her shins against her desk as she leans back slightly in her chair. Her office door is closed, though it only blocks out sound from the rest of the office at the museum, she still has a comprehensive view of the office and the vaulted ceilinged entrances below through the etched glass that makes up that wall of her office. Instead of working on next term’s schedule of classes she’s been trying to figure out how to save her relationship.

The only way she can see forward is to try this thing with Lexa that Octavia wants and see if they survive. It’s a tentative hope because this is not how people work through their relationship problems. She’s not even sure she wants this.

This is possibly the worst idea.

If it works, she’s afraid that Octavia will still leave her in the end for Lexa, because she isn’t enough. If she were enough Octavia wouldn’t be looking elsewhere. And if it doesn’t work, Octavia will leave because Clarke can’t give her what she needs. That’s the short of it: no matter what happens she will feel inadequate. 

Clarke can’t swallow past the lump in her throat.

This thing with Lexa is her only chance.

Her thumb hovers over the call button and yet she still can’t bring herself to hit it. She doesn’t know what she’s going to say. It’s not like she can just tell her mother that she suggested to her girlfriend that they try to date a second woman. Abby had been surprised enough when Clarke and Octavia sat her down to tell her that they had been together for the last six months. That had been more than two years ago and while Abby was nothing but supportive Clarke doesn’t even know how to explain what is happening in her life without sounding crazy.

Simply put, Clarke knows that she and Octavia are still in love, but their relationship, no matter how hard they try, is unbalanced. Octavia takes too many risks, and Clarke loves feeding into her impulsive nature. It doesn’t help that sometimes Clarke falls apart and doubts everything. Then they fight over the stack of bills on the doorside bookcase, because even though they’re always paid on time, they’re never paid soon enough, or they forget to get groceries for two weeks, or Clarke forgets that time is a real thing and spends two days in her studio completely ignoring the world. They are a relationship of extremes and stubbornness keeps them together. 

Stubbornness and love.

Clarke hits call and takes a deep breath as she waits for her mother to answer.

“What’s wrong?” Abby answers on the second ring. Her tone is enough to remind Clarke she doesn’t call nearly often enough, and only then when things are getting bad.

“I just wanted to talk,” Clarke doesn’t know where to start. 

“You never just want to talk, Clarke.”

She almost hangs up because she doesn’t need another fight but decides to just start talking because for once, she does just want to talk. She needs to know what to do. First though, a peace offering. “I have a meeting with the owner at Gallery 2149 Friday. He wants to see three new pieces.”

“Is he going to give you a show?”

“I doubt I’ll get my own, not for years, but it’s a step.”

“Maybe you can get a second job managing the space, you and Octavia aren’t still struggling with rent are you?”

That would be the dream. Managing a gallery and putting on her own shows. It seems like a far off untouchable reality. “Octavia and I have been fighting again.”

There’s a pause and Clarke listens to her mother’s breath fill the silence. She flexes her calves to gently rock her in her tipped back chair.

“You and Octavia always work through things.”

“It’s different this time,” she almost says something about Lexa but bites the inside of her cheek to keep from speaking her name. “We talked and… it isn’t going to work out unless something drastic changes.”

Abby hesitates, “Are you going to tell me what the fight is about?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Relationships require compromise, Clarke. You know that.”

“I know.” She sighs and rubs at her face with her free hand. “It’s just, she came up with something to try that might work out, but it might backfire, and I don’t want it to because I can’t lose her, mom.” Clarke hates the way her voices cracks.

“Is it something you can live with?”

Clarke lets her chair fall forward onto all four legs and her elbows come to rest on her desk, her head falling into her hands. She doesn’t know, she just doesn’t. She doesn’t know if their plan will work, or if they’ll want it to once things are in motion. It’s such a slim chance that any of it will work out at all. Her stomach sinks and her throat constricts. “I don’t know,” she whispers.

“Some things just aren’t meant to be, sweetheart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Clarke is going to decide? What about Lexa?  
> come at me in the comments here or [invade my inbox over on tumblr.](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask)


	4. The Seduction of Lexa Woods part 3 | 2 years 8 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support for this story continues to astound me. You are all wonderful. And I need to say thanks again to my betas, who are epic and wonderful and challenging me to be a better writer and storyteller.
> 
> I wish I could offer up a fluffier chapter after last night's episode, but that isn't how it worked - so, if you're in the need for something fluffy hit up my ask box [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) and I'll happily write out some fluffy ot4 headcanons.

The Trading Post Bar is halfway between the police station and Clarke and Octavia’s apartment and they’ve been regulars for the last five years. Octavia runs her thumb along the groove in the bar from a bar fight she stopped four years ago, her nail catching along the edge that has yet to wear smooth. The place is ragged and dark, but it’s clean and familiar and right now it feels more comfortable than home.

Niylah is bartending, like she is most nights since she practically runs the place nowadays, and she sets two shots in front of Octavia without a word. The woman just has a way of  _ knowing _ . She and Clarke have spent countless evenings on these bar stools, their stories have lived and died inside these walls. For a while Clarke and Niylah had been a not so serious thing, which had meant a lot more free drinks, but that was years ago, before even Octavia realized she had feelings for Clarke.

She wonders briefly if this bar will see the end of her relationship.

Octavia watches Niylah move to the other end of the bar, chatting, smiling, filling drinks in a smooth practiced manner. Her blonde hair is tied loosely back and littered with thin braids, some strands wrapped in colorful thread, others sporting beads. 

Niylah has a way of reading the room, almost anticipating what will happen before it does. This is her domain. Octavia misses feeling that in control.

Everything with Clarke has her off kilter. It feels like any semblance of home she had is being stripped away from her. Since they met Clarke has been the one person Octavia felt safe with, felt at home with aside from her brother. She can’t lose Clarke. Octavia takes the shots in quick succession, only hissing slightly at the burn of the alcohol. Before she can look back up Niylah is in front of her clearing the shot glasses and setting down a pint of Octavia’s favorite beer.

She sets down two more shots, one for herself and one for Octavia. They clink the tiny glasses and down them in silence.

“No Clarke tonight?” Niylah asks like she knows the answer.

Octavia frowns at her beer before downing a mouthful. Her skin is crawling and she needs the feeling that she’s flailing and falling and everything is out of her control and that ultimately she’s about to lose the one person that’s always, unquestionably, felt like her safe harbor. For too many years everything in her life was dictated by her brother, Bellamy. He raised her as their mother fell apart, but he never let her  _ live _ , she had no control, and now she’s a wild thing, afraid and alone and not knowing how to fix her relationship.

_ Please don’t let it be over. _

Octavia shakes her head, not quite meeting Niylah’s penetrating gaze. She doesn’t try to hide, knowing that Niylah will have whatever she wants out of Octavia by the end of the night anyway what with the speed of the drinks that keep coming her way. All Octavia wants is Clarke’s arms around her again and she’s almost certain that’s the last thing that will happen tonight.

She finishes her beer and signals Niylah for another which is placed in front of her with a sigh.

Octavia isn’t even certain Clarke will be home when she finally stumbles down the street, up the stairs to their little apartment where she’ll have to wrap up in extra blankets just to keep from freezing. The heater breaks in the winter and the air conditioner won’t turn off in the summer, but when that happens Clarke just pulls Octavia tighter against her and they laugh. Octavia runs her thumb nail along a groove in the bar top. 

“Thank you for texting me, Niylah.” Lincoln murmurs just loud enough to be heard as he slides up to the bar on Octavia’s right. She can feel his eyes on her and there’s a disastrous level of shame welling up inside her and the side of her face feels hot where she knows he’s watching. At least Niylah didn’t call Clarke, but Niylah always knows who to call when one of them shows up alone. 

Niylah probably knows them all better than they know themselves.

Octavia’s head snaps up, and she feels the alcohol slow her reaction, muddle her words, even as she’s thankful it isn’t Clarke on the stool beside her, the shame boils inside her, “You called him?”

Calling Lincoln is probably only slightly worse than calling Clarke today. Work had been a disaster and she’d left in stoney silence, Lincoln furious with her. It wasn’t the first time, it wouldn’t be the last.

“Where’s Clarke?” Lincoln asks as he slides the pint glass out of Octavia’s hands. He isn’t asking her though, he’s asking Niylah.

Octavia presses her hands into the bar, wishing for a shot or another drink even though she knows she’s had enough for the night. She wants to be numb and she can still feel. Home is a heartbeat she can’t press her ear to. The thought of Clarke turns her stomach in knots, worry and fear and hurt rising in equal measure as she tries to quell them. Hunching her shoulders she pushes out the world; she can take this on by herself. She doesn’t need Lincoln or Niylah to watch over her, she has to take this on by herself. 

She has to get this right so Clarke doesn’t leave.

Octavia misses the way Niylah shrugs at Lincoln’s question, too wrapped up in trying to calm her mind. She misses the way Niylah’s only answer a raised eyebrow and a pointed nod toward Octavia like she knows if she just waits Octavia will tell them what she’s been refusing to talk about all night.

“Good luck getting Clarke to talk to you or leave her studio.” Octavia mumbles, tracing the grain of the wood with her fingernail. She wants to get out of here, to do something. Talking about Clarke is not what she wants.

Niylah reaches out and tips up her chin, pale brown eyes warm and searching as they flit across Octavia’s face, “How many days?”

“Three.”

“We’ve weathered worse,” Niylah turns back to cleaning down the bar, seemingly unconcerned.

Octavia is itching to move but Lincoln is standing behind her and she can't get away instead stuck between him and Niylah, forced to continue this conversation. “I fucked up and I don’t think I can make it right.”

Lincoln pulls up the stool next to her, leaning his forearms against the bar, his hands clasped lightly. They had been together for three years and managed to remain friends and partners at work in the ensuing four years. If anyone thought it strange it wasn’t them. No stranger than taking advice from your girlfriend’s ex.

Octavia glances up at Niylah, waiting. One of them will ask, it’s just a matter of which one will break the silence first. Lincoln and Niylah exchange a look because they’ve heard variations of this before from her, from Clarke, about others and about each other. She doesn’t know how to convince them that this really is different, this really is it, not unless she tells them why, and she’s not ready to tell anyone about Lexa.

“Are you going to tell us what happened.”

“Nope,” the word smacks between Octavia’s lips and she can feel it heavy on her tongue like regret.

Niylah shakes her head sadly, but she slides another shot over to Octavia when she hands her back her credit card not bothering to say  _ on the house _ as she shifts back to her other customers, Octavia’s been coming around long enough to know what the gesture means, that today is a broken day.

Octavia’s fingers dig into the bar top and there’s a fine tremor in her arms. Sitting around and hurting does her no good. She needs action. She needs this energy gone.

“I’ll be right back, but then we’re getting you home.” Lincoln stands up, his hand rests on Octavia’s shoulder for a moment as he passes.

“I’m fine, Lincoln.” Octavia rolls her eyes. If he takes her home she’ll just be alone on the couch and she can’t face the silence.

“No, you’re drunk. Just stay here until I get back.”

Lincoln isn’t gone five seconds before an argument at the other end of the bar catches Octavia’s attention. She doesn’t really process what the fight is about just that it’s about to turn into a physical fight and she doesn’t let that kind of thing happen, not here. This is her bar, and she’s a cop. The regulars know that and the ones causing trouble are not regulars.

Niylah is yelling at them to take it outside. They aren’t listening, words flying back and forth louder and louder as if that makes them right. She watches as Niylah vaults over the bar and starts to usher the men out. One of them shoves her back and the itching need to act burns through Octavia like wildfire on a dry prairie. Octavia doesn’t remember leaving her barstool as she presses between the men and they tower over her, not that she really notices. She never cares; she can hold her own when sober.

She isn’t sure about drunk, but also, she doesn’t care when she’s drunk.

The yelling continues over the top of her head until one of the men steps forward taking a swing. Octavia shoves him back against the bar, fumbling for her badge in her pocket as he protests threatening to call the cops.

“I am a cop,” she spits, her words too slurred to sound convincing.

That’s about the time she feels a blinding pain in her shoulder and registers the sound of the shattering of glass. A sharp white hot pain cuts across her chest. She glances down to see a blood stain spreading across her ripped green shirt like a garish holiday design. Any movement from her left arm makes her grit her teeth and hiss in pain. 

That’s a lot of blood.

##  _______________________________________

 

Terror throws reality into sharp relief. What matters. What doesn’t. The instant you believe a decision has been made for you it becomes abundantly clear what you really care about and what you really want. There’s no denying the feelings as they run rampant. The truth always wins out, even against better judgement.

It’s been four hours since the clock struck the hour Octavia typically arrives home from work and she still hasn’t shown up, hasn’t called, hasn’t answered her phone. In fact her phone is uncharacteristically off and Clarke is terrified of exactly two things. One, that Octavia left her, and two, that something terrible happened at work and it’s only a matter of time before she gets  _ the call _ , the one where she has to go down to the station to break down in a cold interrogation room, or to the hospital to fall apart on sterile plastic chairs, the one that tells her Octavia is dying or dead.

Her cell phone rings.

Clarke dives for her cell phone before the first note of her ringtone has finished sounding, nearly taking out the lamp on the end table in the process. She’s answered the call before she registers that it isn’t Octavia calling, but her mother.

“Mom, I can’t talk right now.”

“Honey, I need to-”

“I’m waiting for Octavia to call me back but her phone is off.”

“Clarke-”

“Can we talk la-”

“I’m calling about Octavia,” Abby blurts out in an attempt to get Clarke to listen.

Clarke closes her eyes, twisting,  slowly sinking down onto the couch, her knees giving way and her stomach drops, a heavy, acidic feeling in it’s place. This is what she was waiting for, what she didn’t want:  _ the call _ . Everyone who’s ever been with anyone who works in law enforcement dreads the call, and she’s never really had much reason to worry, Octavia’s always been careful, even on the worst days, she always narrowly misses trouble, but today she’s four hours late and Clarke doesn’t know why because she was too stubborn to open her studio door this morning when Octavia knocked. She was too stubborn to kiss her goodbye and now she isn’t certain her heart remembers how to beat it hurts so much.

“Clarke,  _ Clarke _ .”

She isn’t sure how long her mother has been saying her name, just that it feels like her heart has been broken in half. “Yeah, mom?” She breathes out, trying to sound normal, the words are harsh on the back of her throat like talking is a foreign idea.

“Did you hear anything I said?”

“No.”

“I just wanted to let you know, because of your call earlier-”

“She’s not?” Clarke can’t keep the edge of panic out of her voice or stop the way her breath is coming in short sharp inhales.

“Clarke, no. Sweetheart, I need you to calm down. Breathe,” Abby pauses waiting until she hears Clarke let out a long exhale. “Octavia is fine; she’s with Lincoln. I just know you worry when she’s late and you know I shouldn’t even be telling you this much, but she’s fine.”

“I know.”

“Are you okay?”

“No. I need to go. I- Thank you for calling.”

Clarke doesn’t stop pacing until she hears keys in the door. She had called Lincoln’s phone no less than six times, and Octavia’s another four, without a single answer. Another two hours and five minutes have passed when the door finally swings open.

“Octavia!”

Clarke runs to Octavia only just stopping short of crashing into her as she pulls her up in a hug. Octavia is alive and mostly unscathed and  _ home _ . She smells like alcohol and the hospital and it takes her a few moments to wrap her arms around Clarke, hissing in pain as she does.

“Ease up a bit, stitches, twelve of them right underneath my collar bone.”

Heart racing, Clarke pulls back to examine Octavia’s injuries. Her shirt is torn and bloody around the left shoulder, and there’s an abrasion under her left eye. Clarke untangles Octavia’s arms from around her waist and inspects her knuckles, one of which is split and bandaged.

“Clarke, I’m fi-”

“You have  _ stitches _ .” Clarke carefully peels back the shirt to reveal a fresh white bandage and sighs in frustration because it’s probably less than necessary and she can’t see the damage with it in the way.

“Abby said I was fi-”

“Fine. I know.  _ She _ called.”

“I told you, you needed to call.” Lincoln says from where he’s still standing in the hallway. 

Octavia glances over her shoulder, “You’re not helping,” her words slur slightly.

Clarke is picking at the edge of the tape on the bandage, taking in the ragged edge of Octavia’s shirt, and the straight cut where Abby peeled it back, damp and bloody to stitch her up. And there’s so much dried blood. She presses the palm of her left hand flat against Octavia’s sternum just to feel her heart beat more soundly, fingers on one edge of the bandage while her right hand rests lightly against Octavia’s shoulder. Her stomach is twisted in knots and all she can think about is how she thought the call from her mother had been  _ the call _ .

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Octavia brushes a hand against her cheek, catching the trail of tears.

“Clarke?” Octavia whispers like she’s afraid Clarke is going to snap at her again. Instead, Clarke throws her arms around Octavia’s neck, ignoring the grunt of pain.

Now that Clarke is conscious of her own tears she can’t stop crying and her sobs keep getting bigger, taking her over until her chest heaves, and she’s holding onto Octavia like their lives depend on it. She only barely hears Lincoln say goodbye and the door shut as Octavia shuffles them a few steps into the apartment.

Clarke presses a kiss against Octavia’s unbandaged collarbone and another to her neck, her jawline, the corner of her mouth. She holds steady there, sniffling, trying to calm the storm inside her head with her cheek against Octavia’s.

Octavia is whispering to her, comforting things, her hands running up and down Clarke’s spine slowly, caressing her. She starts walking them backwards, and they’re halfway to the bedroom before she stops.

“Clarke?”

She hums against Octavia’s ear.

“Can  _ we _ lie down in our bed? I know I fucked up, the barfight, not calling, and-”

Clarke kisses her cheek, “We can go to bed.” She runs her fingers through Octavia’s hair, “As soon as we get you cleaned up.” She wrinkles her nose. “You smell like hospital and cheap beer.”

“Some drunk thought it was a good idea to break a beer bottle on my shoulder.”

“At least it wasn’t your face.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

The apology is about more than the twelve stitches and the hours of worry.

Clarke sits Octavia down on the edge of the tub, making short work of her ruined, bloody clothes before taking a damp cloth to her skin. She’s careful not to disturb the wounds, the gash in the hollow just below the bone on her shoulder that had it been four inches higher could have ended her life. It’s not the first time she’s touched this spot with tenderness, wishing for a way to stop the pain before it started. Last time they were younger and Octavia had a broken collar bone, the only thanks she received for defending her mother. 

Clarke’s fingers tremble, thinking how many times she’s nearly lost Octavia over the years, and her lungs freeze in her chest. She can’t think about that now, but the more she pushes the thought away, the more the cold fear of it creeps up her spine. So she focuses on making her girlfriend smell like the lavender soap they share instead of antiseptic.

“You know usually when you’re washing me it’s a lot more fun, and there’s a lot more nudity,” Octavia smiles, her fingers curling around the edges of Clarke’s open collar. She’s still slightly tipsy even after the trip to the Emergency Room. Her voice is light, but she’s shaking, wondering if Clarke’s gentle touch is going to push her to tears.

Clarke looks up focused on Octavia’s pale green eyes, trying not to look at the gentle swelling, or the bruise beneath her left eye, and instead at the life and light and trembling hope she sees. Clarke’s hands shake, her fingertips tracing the stitches. “This was too close. I keep almost losing you and I don’t know how many more times I can survive it.” 

Octavia wraps one of her hands around Clarke’s, stalling the gentle rubbing on the raw skin held together with sutures and moves it over her heart. “I’m here, I’m alive.”

She leans forward and the kiss is little more than a gentle press of lips followed by another. Relief washes over her as Clarke kisses her back, lips parted slightly. The kisses that follow are tender and soft, barely there, but profoundly important. If they’re talking, if they’re touching, they aren’t over.

Octavia slips her hands to the buttons of Clarke’s shirt slowly undoing them one by one.

“Not tonight,” Clarke whispers against Octavia’s lips, her hand holding Octavia’s in place. “You’re injured and we still need to talk.”

“Then we’ll talk, I just want you to be pressed against me without all of this in the way.” Octavia tugs at Clarke’s shirt. “Can we just be?”

Clarke nods, tilting her head to kiss Octavia gently, and lets her hands fall to Octavia’s lap.

They leave a trail of clothes behind them as they move slowly to the bed and Clarke lays Octavia back on it gently once they’re both down to nothing but their underwear. She shivers in the cool air and crawls in after, pulling the duvet over them both. The landlord is always swearing he’ll fix the heat in the building but he never does, and the windows are too old to keep in any heat the old system manages to generate. Usually it doesn’t matter because they have each other to keep warm.

Clarke runs her fingertips along the edges of Octavia’s face, memorizing the shape of it again, the high arch of her eyebrows, the soft rise of her cheekbones, and the sharp angle of her jaw. She knows Octavia’s face better than she knows her own. And she hates that she has to break this perfect moment, but waiting won’t make their fight go away. They can’t just fall into bed and forgive each other like they do every other time they fight.

This fight will come back and break them.

“Lexa,” Clarke breathes out her name like a sigh.

“We don’t have to talk about her.”

“We do though,” Clarke closes her eyes, steeling her resolve.

Octavia catches up Clarke’s hand where it rests on her cheek, twining their fingers together and kissing her palm. She breathes the words out like a prayer, “I’m yours, Clarke. No matter what, I want to come home to you. You  _ are _ my home.”

“Good,” Clarke breathes out and squeezes Octavia’s hand. “You should ask Lexa to come out for drinks with us.” 

There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of Clarke’s mouth and Octavia isn’t sure how to respond. She watches Clarke for a sign of where this is going, afraid to respond for ruining whatever is happening. Afraid to break this tentative peace settling between them.

“As friends only. I don’t even know her yet. Maybe she’ll end up hating me and it would never work out and we’ll come home and wallow in the whiskey that your brother gave us last Christmas.”

Octavia nods slightly, not quite certain she believes the words that are coming out of Clarke’s mouth.

“You’re right. We need a change and we have to compromise. So this is me compromising because I can’t lose you.”

A slow smile spreads across Octavia’s face and her heart feels like it’s going to burst. Just a chance at her half thought out plan is all she wants, because she’d do anything to make things okay between her and Clarke. If she sees the flicker of doubt in Clarke’s eyes she doesn’t recognize it for what it is, that despite Clarke’s offer to try she's hesitant to believe that things with Lexa will work out.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Octavia pulls Clarke to her in a gentle kiss. “I love you,” she whispers, her lips ghosting over Clarke’s.

“Love you too, O.”

Maybe love will be enough.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia wakes up wrapped in Clarke’s arms to a throbbing pain in her left shoulder and she doesn’t care because Clarke is holding onto her like she’s never going to let go. There’s a tenuous truce in their relationship, a promise and a hope that maybe they can make things better between them. They love each other and they’re fighting for that love.

She presses a kiss to Clarke’s forehead, then her nose, slow soft kisses across her face until she feels her girlfriend stir. Clarke smiles sleepily at her and nuzzles into her side. Octavia should be getting ready for work, but she can’t bring herself to try to move, and unwrap herself from the safety of Clarke’s arms. It’s been a lifetime since Friday and she’s afraid to break the spell of this moment.

Clarke is curled around Octavia’s side, one leg tossed over both of Octavia’s, her hand flat against her stomach and her head resting in the crook over her arm. She’s looking out across the expanse of her girlfriend’s bare chest and out the window, watching the sky turn from dark blue to pink and orange.

“O?”

She feels Octavia hum a response as Octavia trails her fingers lazily up and down Clarke’s spine. As long as they keep falling together like this they won't fall apart. Clarke traces her fingers around the bandage just underneath Octavia’s collarbone.  _ I can’t lose her _ , like a mantra on repeat in the back of her mind.

“How would this even work? With Lexa.” The question has been bothering her all night and she still doesn’t really know how she feels about the prospect other than she knows she isn’t opposed to the idea in theory. Scared, excited, worried, and to be honest a little turned on at the thought of someone else in their bed, but there’s no one prevailing feeling that she has yet, except an undercurrent of desperation. She’s only entertaining the idea because Octavia asked and Octavia is right, things have been rocky between them even without the drama caused by the greek goddess. 

“I don’t know. I’ve dated precisely two people for any significant period of time and neither of you at the same time. So my experience with threesomes is sorely limited.” 

Clarke continues, only half acknowledging Octavia’s comment, too wrapped up in trying to figure out the answer to her question. “I mean, beyond the logistics of kissing and sleeping arrangements and sex there’s-”

“Whoa. Hold up, Clarke. I thought we were inviting Lexa out for drinks as friends.”

“Well, yes, but I mean, what if it goes well? You’re the one who brought up threesomes. How do we even approach this?”

“I thought maybe you could figure that out.”

Clarke arches up, leaning on her arm so she can look at Octavia’s face. “Why me?”

“Because I tend to blurt out really intense things before anyone else is ready, and I want you to be able to say when things stop or move forward for us.” Octavia turns her head and kisses Clarke’s cheek. She really means it, if they’re doing this she wants Clarke to take the lead because she doesn’t want to push anyone towards something they aren’t comfortable with. 

“You mean like  _ ‘You’re my best friend, can I kiss you?’  _ and  _ ‘Can we ask out the girl you thought I was leaving you for’ _ .” Clarke teases and leans down to press a kiss to Octavia’s neck. There's a pang in her chest like a hand clenched tight around her heart. It's too soon to be making jokes but she has to pretend she isn't hurting.

She has to pretend this is okay.

“Precisely like that.” She leans forward her lips brushing against the shell of Clarke’s ear as she whispers, “I’m sorry.” This is mostly her fault.

When she pulls back there’s a mischievous glint in Octavia’s eyes and she pushes Clarke onto her back before straddling her, the movement only serving as a reminder to them that neither ever put clothes on last night, needing to feel each other alive as they held each other close. Octavia runs the palms of her hands down the valley between Clarke’s breasts, biting her lip and taking in the sight beneath her. “But look how well the first one turned out.”

“Don’t push your luck, Blake.” Clarke grabs Octavia’s wrists and pulls her downward gently so she’s close enough to arch up and kiss. She knows exactly how to distract Octavia but she has to be careful that they don’t pull out any stitches.

“I see how it is, Griffin.” Pushing against Clarke’s hands she grinds her hips down, but the grin on her face betrays the seriousness of her next words. “You’re my best friend, can I kiss you?” 

Clarke nods and lets out a small moan as Octavia presses a trail of wet open mouthed kisses up her neck. She loses herself in the feeling for a second. She doesn’t want to get out of bed yet, but Octavia has work and is injured and they’ve already spent too much time this morning lying in bed instead of getting ready. She pushes feebly at Octavia’s good shoulder, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Who says I’m not gonna finish this?” Octavia growls as she kisses down Clarke’s sternum, a clear challenge, ignoring the hands only half heartedly trying to stop her.

“The clock, if you don’t leave soon you’re going to be late for your eight a.m. meeting with the greek goddess. And I don’t need to be redoing my mother’s stitches; she’ll know and you won’t like it.” 

Octavia glances at the clock and sighs heavily letting her head fall onto Clarke’s chest.

“Don’t forget to ask her about drinks on Friday.”

“Why do I have to be the one to ask again?” she mumbles.

“Because it was your idea… and Octavia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for letting me call the shots on this.”

“Always.”

##  _______________________________________

 

“What happened?” Lexa raises an eyebrow as Octavia walks up to her in the hall between the District Attorney’s offices and the police station. When she saw Octavia on her way out of work yesterday she had been fine. A little bubble of worry spills out in her tone and she hates the weakness of it. Octavia is nothing more than a colleague and will probably never be more than that.

Octavia shakes her head but there’s a small smile on her lips, “The details are a bit fuzzy, but I tried to stop a bar fight after having a few more drinks than I should have.” She glances down at the back of her hand, “It could have gone better.”

Lexa takes a step toward her, gaze flitting over the black eye and the split knuckle. “Is that the worst of it?”

Octavia winces as she shrugs with just her right shoulder. “Twelve stitches, broken beer bottles cut deep.”

Lexa purses her lips, she wants to tell Octavia to be careful, that she shouldn’t be taking risks like that, but it isn’t her place. So she says nothing only giving a curt nod which Octavia returns before continuing down the hall.

Octavia pauses at the door to the precinct, hand wrapping around the doorknob even as she stops and turns back to Lexa. Her heart is beating frantically in her chest like it does right before she takes a running leap off a base jump. 

“Lexa?” She calls, pushing down the nervous lump in her throat and finding herself smiling at Lexa’s mildly confused stare. “What are you doing Friday night?”

Lexa pauses and takes in a slow breath because that was possibly the last question she expected Octavia to ask. Her heart skips a beat and she doesn’t know why she feels hopeful because Octavia has a highly attractive girlfriend and she should not want this. If her instincts are correct she’s probably part of the reason Octavia has twelve stitches in her shoulder.

“Clarke wants to apologize for how things went when you two met. She’s insisting on drinks and inviting you on a private tour of the museum. I told her you like to go sometimes and she’s a resident artist there, you guys probably have a lot in common and so-”

“Yes.” The word tumbles out of her mouth before she can stop it. She instantly regrets it, but she doesn’t regret the smile on Octavia’s face as she ducks into the precinct.

##  _______________________________________

 

They started out the evening on opposite sides of the couch. Octavia curled up under a blanket with the TV on low while she plays Halo, Clarke on the other end of the couch with her sketchbook balanced on her knees. Octavia glances over at Clarke as her character respawns again. She isn’t feeling the game tonight, she just wants to be with Clarke. These last few weeks have her feeling heavy even as she has moments where her heart sores. Lately those moments have been with Lexa.

Octavia scoots closer to Clarke and resumes her game, but her mind isn’t really on taking down the Covenant. She wants to be with Clarke, not just quietly enjoying time spent side by side. She misses being spontaneous and having adventures. Her limbs are restless and her skin is crawling. Her character dies again and she scoots closer to Clarke again.

Clarke notices, half glancing up from her sketch and raising an eyebrow at Octavia.

Octavia suppresses a grin and shrugs. 

Clarke shifts so she’s leaning against Octavia’s side instead of against the arm of the couch and Octavia presses a kiss to Clarke’s hair as she jumps back into her game. This is closer to what she wants but they’re still on this couch, inside these walls that have only seen heartbreak for the past month. It doesn’t quite feel like home anymore and she wants to make things right.

Another character death. Octavia tosses the controller aside and rests her chin on Clarke’s shoulder like she does when she’s trying to get Clarke’s attention and her girlfriend is ignoring her. Clarke reaches up a hand and scratches her fingers through Octavia’s hair even as she continues to work on her sketch. 

It’s one of Octavia, mouth open wide in disappointment as she plays video games. Clearly this is the moment she’s been unexpectedly fragged. She presses a kiss to Clarke’s shoulder and glances from the drawing to Clarke’s face, waiting for Clarke to look at her. It doesn’t take long.

Clarke leans in and kisses Octavia even as she tosses her sketchpad and pencils to the floor, shifting so she can tug Octavia into her lap. Their lips meet in a soft caress and Octavia smiles. This feels like they’re on the mend. Octavia presses a flurry of kisses to Clarke’s face, her neck her shoulders, coming back to her face, tracing her jaw and nose and eyebrows with soft, quick, kisses. Clarke is squirming, laughing underneath her and Octavia feels her heart flutter.

She missed that sound.

She missed this feeling.

Octavia kisses Clarke soundly pouring the joy in her heart into the press of her lips and the swipe of her tongue. Clarke responds fervently and it feels like they’re younger again, hopeful and falling in love for the first time.

Clarke’s hand finds Octavia’s and she intertwines their fingers. She pulls back from the kiss and Octavia swallows down a whimper as Clarke stands up. For a moment her heart sinks thinking she pushed too far, too soon, until she sees the mischief in Clarke’s eyes, that familiar sparkle that’s often followed by some of her favorite memories. 

It’s the same one she’s always had, hand outstretched, wry smile asking,  _ follow me? _

Octavia jumps up from the couch without a question. No words are passed between them but they don’t need them as Clarke opens up the living room window and shimmies out onto the fire escape. Octavia watches her girlfriend and best friend crawl barefoot out their window, a smile breaking across her face, completely ignoring the cold night air. Octavia doesn’t know where they’re going or what they’re doing, and she doesn’t care. She’d follow Clarke to the ends of the earth if it meant she got to see that smile and hear that laugh and hold her tight at the end of the night. 

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa has circled her living room six times debating whether or not she should call Octavia and cancel. 

She walks along the line between the thin black carpet of the living room and the black hardwood floor of her kitchen, carefully, one foot just in front of the other as she weighs options in her head. She pauses in front of the low shelf at the base of the windows that make up one wall of her apartment, kneeling before the row of floating bonsai trees she keeps. Orange light from the setting sun streaks in through the windows, as she tends to her tiny planets. Magnets keep the rocks afloat and her little garden reminds her of the novel  _ The Petit Prince,  _ which Anya used to read to her when she was little. A world of advice and life and love and hope. She sets one of the trees spinning.

Lexa is entirely uncertain what to do.

Octavia insisted that Clarke wanted to get to know Lexa after their run in at the precinct and wanted to make up for awkwardly running out. Lexa isn’t sure if she should be wary of the whole premise of drinks with Octavia and her girlfriend, or if it really is just a friendly invite of drinks as a way to apologize for all the awkwardness that ensued.

Either way she is nervous and Lexa hates feeling nervous. She’s on her way to being a powerful lawyer precisely because she’s in control and she doesn’t let her feelings dictate her actions...` influence, inform, perhaps, but never are they a deciding factor. Not since- Lexa pushes at the thought not even want to bring up the memory. She wipes at her eyes carefully trying not to smudge her makeup, because she isn’t  _ really _ crying.

A long time ago she learned that deep intense feelings only lead to more pain that she is willing to risk. Anya insists she’s just a hair too jaded for twenty-seven but shuts up about the time that Lexa points out Anya has exactly as many serious relationships as she has, which is to say, none beyond each other. Anything more is a distraction from success. At least as far as Lexa sees it.

After meeting Clarke she just wanted to throw herself back into work. She would be lying if she didn’t feel disappointed but Lexa doesn’t feel like putting herself in a position where she can be hurt again. There are too many things she wants to do before she turns thirty and another broken heart is not on the list, and friends just distract her from work. 

She was determined to stick to the plan, then Octavia asked her out for drinks, saying Clarke had asked her to extend an invitation, rambled on about how Clarke was an artist in residence at the art museum downtown and she knew that Lexa liked spending her lunch breaks at the museum so they all had a lot in common.

The words  _ what, like finding you both attractive? _ had burned the back of her throat as she held them back and instead she had found herself accepting the invitation. Her apartment is clean and warm but it is empty and void of any life but her own. Going out for drinks would be nice even if she had to spend the entire night keeping herself in check. It’s not like she could relax after how much she had been flirting with Octavia. The last thing she needs to do is cause a problem between Octavia and her girlfriend.

On her next circle of the immaculate, minimalist room Lexa snatches her iPad off the glass coffee table and hits redial, pulling up the video chat app as she does. She comes to stop in front of the floor to ceiling windows that look out over downtown and pinches the bridge of her nose while FaceTime rings. She props the iPad up on the tall corner table so she doesn’t have to hold it while she talks.

Lexa glances at the screen as Anya’s face comes into view, “This is a terrible idea.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Anya takes a sip of red wine.

“Going for drinks with Octavia and Clarke.”

“Oh, I know you’re talking about that. I just don’t think it’s a terrible idea.” There’s a hint of a laugh in Anya’s voice and Lexa rolls her eyes. “You aren’t trying to back out are you?”

“Perhaps.” Lexa leans her forehead against the glass and looks down at the street twenty-two stories below watching life rush by en miniature, wishing the immensity of the city could just swallow her whole and push her back into obscurity.

“You really need to get out more.”

Lexa purses her lips and turns her head to look at Anya, her forehead squeaks against the glass and she winces at the sound. “I have more important things to deal with than my social life.”

“Your lack of social life, you mean.”

She sticks her tongue out, “Just because my job doesn’t require me to go to parties twice a week doesn’t mean my social life is lacking.”

“When was the last time you went on a date?”

Lexa doesn’t answer, instead looking down at the world beneath her feet again. Mostly she stays silent because she can’t exactly recall the last real date she went on though it was probably something Anya set up. And if she brings up Costia they’ll be here all night discussing how she needs to move on and Lexa will insist that she has and Anya will insist that she prove it and she’ll end up with another blind date that she doesn’t want to go on.

“Well, you can fix that tonight.”

“Anya! This isn’t a date,” Lexa nearly jumps to standing and walks toward the iPad, horrified. “I’m meeting a coworker  _ and her girlfriend _ for drinks.”

“It totally sounded like a date when you told me about it on Wednesday,” Anya winks.

“Oh my god, Anya. I’m never telling you anything again.”

“What, you said they were both hot, is it too much to hope that my little sis gets some before she winds so tight she snaps at someone in court and gets disbarred.”

“I am not wound tight,” Lexa crosses her arms across her chest.

Anya makes a noise that sounds like a stifled snort of laughter. “You aren’t wearing that are you?”

Lexa glances down, she’s still in work clothes, slacks and a modest button up, though she did slip off her heels when she got home. It’s appropriate for a cordial night of drinks with a coworker, maybe a bit too formal for drinks with a friend. Anya picks out most of her wardrobe anyway. She sighs. “I hadn’t decided if I was even going yet.” 

Anya purses her lips and Lexa knows there will be no debating whether or not she is or is not going or else she’ll never hear the end of it. “Wear the white dress, the one with the zipper down the front and the pockets.”

Lexa finds herself mumbling thanks before she hangs up. That was not at all how she wanted or planned that conversation to go and now she only has an hour and a half to get ready and get back downtown to the bar.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke slides in next to Octavia in the booth in the back corner of The Trading Post. They’re early and after a ten minute discussion of whose fault it is they decided they’re entirely a disaster when left to their own devices. Clarke is a bundle of nerves and Octavia is feeding off her energy, channeling her excitement into an inability to sit still and a deconstructed beer label.

Niylah leans on their table, a second round of beers in her hand. “You two alright?”

“Definitely.”

“Of course.”

Clarke stares at the table unable to meet Niylah’s gaze, afraid to give away the fear underlying her nervousness. She nudges Octavia under the table.

“We’re just waiting for a friend of mine from work.”

“A newbie?”

“Nah, one of the DAs from across the hall.”

“You should bring more of them in, they tip better,” Niylah winks and slides away from their table. 

Clarke forces herself to breathe again as she takes a sip of her beer.

The bar is quiet, the post work rush is over and it isn’t quite time for post dinner drinks, only a few other patrons dotted around the dimly lit space. The place is friendly, but not overly fancy, and it’s usually a good place to meet up and start a night out. Clarke glances down at her beer wishing she had something stronger. A small handful of dread has taken up residence in the pit of her stomach and she can’t shake it.

She isn’t enough for Octavia.

Clarke swallows thickly, trying to clear her head. She can do this. It’s only drinks. Nothing has to happen past tonight. Things have been getting better, bit by bit. Still, she’s afraid of what will happen to her relationship after tonight is over. It’s already been irreparably changed.

Octavia spots Lexa walk in first and nudges Clarke out of her reverie. She’s excited but trying to follow Clarke’s lead. All she wants is to make things right between them and find a way to stay together. Clarke is her best friend, has been since Clarke snuck her a cookie in detention after they’d gotten in a fight on the playground in the fifth grade. She means more to Octavia than anyone else in her life, she’ll do anything to keep Clarke by her side, even if that means setting aside the growing warmth in her chest she gets whenever she thinks of Lexa.

Lexa is wearing a white knee length babydoll dress underneath her red peacoat. Her hair is down in a half curled wavy mane and she looks so much less intimidating like this. The stoic greek goddess is still there but the young woman underneath is peaking through. Her eyes light up when she spots them.

They slide out of the booth, standing to say hello. Clarke can’t take her eyes off Lexa and even though she’s dressed nice she feels dull next to Lexa’s shine. In her heels Lexa is close to half a foot taller than either of them and Clarke hates how it makes her feel small.

Octavia moves first and pulls Lexa into a quick hug, “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Watching Octavia hug Lexa feels like a hand squeezing Clarke’s heart. She forces out a breath and smiles, extending her hand and taking Lexa’s lightly when she does the same. “Me too.” She tries to mean it. 

“I’ll go get us a round. Lexa?” Octavia slides her hand to the small of Clarke’s back and guides her toward the booth.

“Red wine?”

She nods. “Same?” Octavia turns to Clarke who nods her head yes. The look in her eyes is sad like she’s trying to hold it all in, Octavia wants to ask her if she’s okay but Lexa is here and there’s no privacy now. She presses a firm kiss to Clarke’s lips and hopes that it’s enough before pulling away and almost running to fetch their drinks.

Silence envelopes the table. Clarke wants to sink into the cushioned seat, instead she blinks back tears and smiles at Lexa, reminding herself that this is for Octavia. This is their chance. She lets out the breath she’s been holding.

“O said you go to the museum on your days off.” Clarke fiddles with the pieces of label scattered next to her empty beer, trying to hide her nervousness.

Lexa nods, “You work there, yes?” It’s clear that Clarke is uncomfortable with this situation, even if Octavia had told the truth and it was her idea, it wasn’t because she wanted it. She should have called and cancelled. There’s a reason she doesn’t do this. 

“I teach art classes, mostly kids, sometimes I help with exhibits.”

Lexa glances back up at Clarke, “I want to work with kids too.”

“I thought you were a lawyer.”

“The foster kids, custody cases. Hopefully I can help someone.” Lexa stops, not wanting to talk about her time in the foster system, or how old she and Anya were when they finally found a family, only to have it taken from them again. How home had never been four walls and a roof, or even an adult, but another scared girl’s arms. Clarke might be attractive and sharp witted and interested in working with kids, but she hasn’t earned that story.

Silence falls between them again and Clarke can’t help but notice how Lexa almost smiles when Octavia slides back into the booth with their drinks. Clarke takes hers and tries not to drink it too fast. The way Lexa looks at Octavia hurts, because she’s supposed to be the only one that looks at her like that. Like she’s the one person that matters.

Octavia reaches under the table and lays her hand on Clarke’s thigh, it does nothing to dissuade the knot in her stomach from growing. She kisses Octavia on the cheek. She can get through one round pretending everything is okay.

Nothing about the rest of the night is okay.

##  _______________________________________

 

Monday morning Clarke decides to bring Octavia coffee from the cafe down the street on her way to work, another peace offering left on an empty desk. She’s nearly out the precinct doors when she hears her name and Lexa grabs her wrist, pulling them into the supply closet. She hastily turns on the light and shuts the door behind them before Clarke’s really had a chance to register what’s happening. 

Lexa didn’t really think this through. Except that she’s spent all weekend thinking about drinks on Friday night and the hurt look on Clarke’s face and knowing it was her fault in a way, and she needs to fix it.

“Lexa?” Clarke pulls her arm back but she can still feel Lexa’s hand on her. “I have a class I have to go teach.”

“Friday was a disaster,” Lexa blurts out. She needs to apologize and she can’t do that if Clarke doesn’t want to listen to her.

Clarke snorts and crosses her arms. “You pulled me into a closet to tell me that?”

“Wait!” Lexa holds up a hand but doesn’t move to grab Clarke or stop her from leaving. It’s a relief when Clarke stops moving for the door and turns back to face her. “What I mean is that it’s clear I overstepped proprietary and I’ve caused problems between you and Octavia which was not my intention. I would never knowingly come between a couple.”

That is the last thing Clarke expected to hear from Lexa: a blatant acknowledgement of feelings that took Octavia weeks to admit to herself and even longer to admit to Clarke. It doesn’t make it hurt any less, or change how she feels about what has already happened. “Okay.”

“Clarke, I’m asking to be transferred off Octavia’s cases and to be reassigned to another office in the city. If I stay I feel I’m just going to complicate the situation further.”

Lexa looks entirely earnest. Her eyes are wide, vulnerable, and her breath is coming quicker than normal, but only by a little. Clarke can only tell because the supply closet is a small cramped space and she certain this is the closest they have ever stood. She can smell Lexa’s perfume: petrichor and mint. It’s unique and vaguely mysterious.

“Thank you.” Clarke reaches for the door but turns one last time, “Lexa?” She glances up through a curtain of wavy chestnut hair. “It wasn’t all your fault, so don’t think it was.” 

Lexa nods, pursing her lips and watches Clarke slip into the hallway. Her heart is heavy and she blinks back tears. She tried, she can tell Anya she tried. Maybe now her sister will drop this relationship nonsense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always talk to me, or yell, here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask).


	5. The Seduction of Lexa Woods part 4 | 2 years 7 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your replies and questions this last week and all your kind words! Things are starting to look up for the girls by the end of this chapter, finally.

Clarke turns over in their little double bed. It’s too small, Octavia is too close, and she can’t sleep. 

Everything keeps coming back to Lexa. Every moment in the past few months, the downward spiral of her and Octavia’s relationship, it all comes back to Lexa. Everything that’s come together has been because of Lexa too. Clarke knows the anxiety wrapped around her spine is driving this, twisting her emotions, leaving her bowed and weak, but she can’t stop the thoughts assaulting her. Lexa is a better person than Clarke wanted her to be, had she been cruel or uncaring, every bit as hard as the marble statue she looks like, this would be easier, but there’s a softness underneath her stoic exterior. 

This would be easier if Clarke hated Lexa, but she doesn’t, she likes her.

Lexa is everything she can’t be for Octavia.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks and her head is screaming. It’s too hot and too cold and her half of the bed is too small. Her skin itches from staying still. Clarke kicks off the covers unafraid of waking Octavia, because Octavia sleeps through everything, and scoots off the end of the bed. She can’t be here. 

Her heart is tied up in knots even though she’s trying to hold it together instead of letting it break.

She stumbles to the door, shoving her feet into shoes, grabbing her sweatshirt and keys and before stumbling outside she rescues the half empty bottle of whiskey from the kitchen. She slams the door, not caring that it’s two in the morning. Clarke doesn’t know where’s she’s going, just that she can’t breathe as long as she’s inside their apartment. The more she watches Octavia sleep the deeper the thought creeps inside her and she can’t escape it. 

_ This is the end. _

Four years of being everything to each other and it’s over. Seventeen years of friendship shattered.

The whiskey burns.

The night air is cold but it doesn’t wake her up, it only makes it hurt more. She walks quickly, brushing up against the brick wall, she needs to find distance. An invisible hand is clutching her throat, squeezing tight. Her stomach is full of nails and she’s shaking uncontrollably. She takes a drink of the whiskey trying to push back the feeling of falling. She presses a hand to a building, trying to keep herself upright as her head spins.

The sidewalk is full of drunk people walking home as the bars start to close. Everyone else seems steadier, more real, more alive. Clarke feels like she’s fading. Someone crashes into her shoulder, cursing at her and she’s not sure which of them is more unsteady as she takes off down the road again.

Octavia is the only person she’s ever really been in love with, the first person that chose her, chose to stay, to make things work, and now she’s halfway to choosing someone else. If Lexa is who Octavia wants she knows she has to step aside. It feels like she’s going to come apart. She takes another drink. They’ve always made it work before. Octavia holds her together when the world crumbles around her. 

The world is crumbling and Clarke is alone.

In the back of her mind she knows that maybe this isn’t true but she can’t escape this feeling inside her, that’s overtaking her every waking thought. This is her anxiety, her depression, the remnants of trauma that cling to her. Still, she feels alone and that’s what drives her on, whiskey in one hand and bad decisions in the other.

The road is dark and the parking lot is empty and she collapses onto the curb. It’s cold and wet beneath her thin pajama shorts but she doesn’t care. Her skin is numb in the chill night air but she can’t bring herself to worry. It doesn’t matter that she’s freezing, her heart is breaking and the whiskey is burning away any thought but the one that hurts the most.

Octavia deserves to be happy; Clarke isn’t enough to give that to her.

Lexa might be that person. Clarke lets out a bitter laugh because in another life she could see herself falling for Lexa. She gets it, why Octavia fell for her. If she had met Lexa first it would be Octavia falling apart because she finally understands how it’s possible to have feelings for more than one person. She’s loved Octavia for years, and she probably always will, and there’s a spark, an impulse of emotion when she thinks about Lexa. There’s the potential for love. She wants both of them, but it could never work out like that even if they want it to.

Life doesn’t work out like that because life doesn’t work out, tied up nice and neatly.

She takes another mouthful of whiskey, coughing violently as she swallows. Clarke examines the nearly empty bottle, she’s had enough but if she keeps a hold of it she’ll finish it off. She tips her head back, taking one last mouthful before chucking the rest across the parking lot and watching the glass shatter.

##  _______________________________________

 

“Clarke!” Octavia chokes out her name as she throws her arms around Clarke’s neck as she’s barely two steps into their apartment. They stumble backwards against the door, slamming it shut. Octavia’s breath is coming in ragged gasps as she chokes down sobs. Her face is wet and slick against Clarke’s neck and she doesn’t care where she’s been. Clarke is in her arms again and that’s all that matters. She’s okay.

Well, she’s alive.

She’s alive and she came back.

“I- I thought you were gone.” Octavia’s words are rough and broken and quiet. Her heart is in a vice, Clarke has never left like this before and she’s terrified of what it means. She’s loved her since the day they became friends, and she’s been in love with her for longer than they’ve been together. Clarke is the only person she always wants this deeply.

Three hours ago she had woken up to an empty bed and not thought much of it because Clarke always gets up to paint, but a feeling of doubt had pulled her from her bed. The apartment was too quiet. The air was too still. Clarke’s studio was empty. Her panic had grown steadily trying to figure out where Clarke had gone in the middle of the night.

Octavia ran back to their room, only to find both their phones on the nightstand.

She’d woken the neighbors with her scream.

She sinks against Clarke as Clarke’s arms finally wrap around her, hesitant and careful. Octavia can smell the whiskey on her breath and she pulls her closer. Now that Clarke is in her arms she can’t let go. She can’t breathe. She can’t stop crying. 

The relief running through her is tied up in fear.

Clarke is trembling and exhausted and she can hardly remember the last time Octavia broke down crying. She’s had too much to drink though to hold them both up and they slowly sink to the floor. The wood floor is hard against her numb skin.

She didn’t expect Octavia to notice she was gone. Her fingers run across the stitches on Octavia’s shoulder and the nearly healed cut. This is her fault. She’s ready to give her up, because Lexa is a better person than Clarke. She’s who Octavia needs. Clarke is a mess and she knows it and no one should have to deal with her.

Except Octavia is holding onto her like she’s everything. Her arms have worked their way inside Clarke’s sweatshirt, her nails are digging into her skin as she clings tighter and tighter. Clarke runs her hands clumsily up and down Octavia’s spine trying to calm her down, trying to coax her to breathe. She tries to remember what Octavia does for her when she breaks down but her head is muddled.

She’s a terrible girlfriend.

Octavia presses hard against Clarke. She’s shaken, afraid and terrified that nothing will be okay between them again. Clarke left without trying to talk to her, without even saying anything might be wrong. Instead of talking like she tries to do even when Octavia fails to communicate, Clarke gave up and walked out.

Her heart breaks because she doesn’t know how she gets through this without losing her best friend, the person she loves most in this world. They’re both cracking apart and no matter what Octavia does it isn’t enough this time.

She just wants to go back to the days when they would climb onto rooftops, and hilltops and treetops and kiss in the light of the setting sun or underneath the stars, when their adventures ended in fits of laughter. She wants burnt toast with her coffee in the morning because Clarke tried to make breakfast.

The harder Octavia cries, the harder it gets for Clarke to hold herself together until they’re both sobbing, clinging to each other on the floor just inside the door of their tiny apartment, great heaving sobs that leave them aching and exhausted.

This is their last fight, their letting go. In the back of Clarke’s mind there’s a nudge of hope that maybe still they can get through this, that they can survive this mess. Somehow they can survive Lexa.

It’s a long time before either of them try to speak. Octavia’s face is puffy and red from crying, Clarke reaches out a shaky hand and rests it on her cheek, brushing her thumb gently over the tear swollen flesh and the scrape that’s almost healed. She scoots closer and Octavia does the same, tangling their legs together. Octavia’s hand is on her waist.

Each time Clarke tries to open her mouth her jaw trembles and an invisible hand squeezes tight against her throat. The words are just there, waiting to be spoken, but the idea of asking the question forming in her mind begging to be asked, cuts at her.

Still, Clarke has to know even if it breaks her completely.

“Am I ever going to be enough again?” The words fall from her lips and her hope is swallowed by the darkness around her.

Octavia’s heart breaks. Clarke has always been enough, she is enough, no matter how rough things are between them she has never felt that Clarke wasn’t enough. Fresh tears prick her eyes.

Octavia sits up to look at Clarke, pulling her with her. “You always are,” the words wrap around them tenderly, too soft to hold them together but enough to cling to them like hope.

Clarke looks away, “I want you to be happy.” Her voice is small like Octavia’s never heard it and she would do anything to make it sound strong again.

“You make me happy.” She reaches out but Clarke flinches away from her touch and she lets her hand fall to the ground. Clarke has never recoiled from her touch before. Octavia looks down, looks anywhere, but at Clarke because if she does she will break.

Clarke pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She wants to disappear into the floor but the only way she can do that right now is if she pushes through. She has to know, or else she’ll leave and forever be wondering if she made the right decision. “Then why is this happening? How can I be enough for you but you want her too?” 

Octavia doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have a good one.  _ Because I do _ isn’t fair to her or Lexa or to Clarke. It’s the only answer she has. Maybe if she had any sort of impulse control, if she could have left Clarke’s sarcastic comment alone this never would have happened. Clarke wouldn’t be trying to leave her.

“Would she make you happy?” Clarke looks up and meets Octavia’s searching gaze, waiting for a hint or a confirmation. All she sees is pain.

“I need you.” Octavia scoots closer to Clarke but can’t bring herself to reach out, she couldn’t take it if Clarke flinched away from her touch again. Clarke’s pain is her fault. The thought makes her sick. This is her fault. They agreed things had to change and she hasn’t changed.

“Octavia, you deserve someone who can give you everything you need, and if I’m not that person. I- I’ll-” Clarke’s voice cracks. “I love you, but I’ll step aside.”

“Clarke.” Octavia nearly lunges to her, desperate, “Stop.” She sits forward on her knees, reaching out to cradle Clarke’s face in her hands. “No.” Gently she coaxes her to lift her chin and look at her again, “Look at me, please.”

Trembling jaw tense Clarke holds back tears as she lifts her chin to see the frantic look on Octavia’s face.

“You’ve been drinking and you’re upset. You aren’t thinking clearly. Don’t give me that look, you know I know you well enough to say that.” Octavia collapses forward, her body almost touching Clarke, but not quite. “I need you, Clarke. I love you, I  _ am _ in love with you, okay?”

She needs Clarke to understand, she needs Clarke to hear her, and she’s afraid Clarke is too far lost in the voices in her head telling her she isn’t enough and that she should just give up. That’s the last thing Octavia wants.

Clarke nods her head slowly, “Okay.”

Octavia’s breaking heart feels a moment of fleeting hope at that one word. “You will always be enough. We’ll work this mess out, but I need you to stay with me.” Her hands fall from Clarke’s face, to her shoulders, gently brushing down her arms until she’s holding her hands. “And this thing with Lexa, we can let it go, forget it, because I can’t lose you Clarke, no matter how I feel about her.”

For a moment Clarke watches Octavia, the pain, and confusion echoing across her face. She doesn’t know if she could stand walking away from her. They’ve been everything to each other for so long. If Octavia says she’s staying no matter what Clarke believes her, but this mess with Lexa isn’t so simply resolved. Not anymore. “We can give it one more try.”

“Don’t do this thing with Lexa for me.”

“I’m not.” Clarke lets out a huff of air because she can’t quite believe herself, after all this, “I like her too.”

Octavia reaches up and brushes a shaking hand across Clarke’s cheek. “Together?”

Clarke nods turning her head to kiss Octavia’s palm.

Octavia pushes Clarke back gently onto the floor slowly following her down. She hovers over her, not quite touching, still afraid to touch. A tremor runs through her arms as she holds herself up. Clarke’s hands are on her hips, not quite holding her in place, but holding her, waiting for Octavia to move. There’s more that she needs to say than there are words in the English language to use.

She dips her head and kisses Clarke lightly. Her heart is thudding against her rib cage so hard it hurts and adrenaline is running through her fuelling the nervous terror in her stomach as she waits for the kiss to be returned. She almost pulls back when she feels Clarke’s hands on her hips pull her down and Clarke deepens the kiss.

Their touches are light, exploratory, timid for how well they know each other’s bodies, but this is about forgiveness and trust. Gently Octavia lowers her length against Clarke feeling the warmth come back into the woman beneath her. There is nothing expectant about their kisses or touches, no greater drive than to be there right in that moment, soft and pliant in each other’s hands.

Her broken heart feels lighter. And even if things between them are still rocky, they’ll be okay. They’re choosing to continue to fight for each other. They aren’t giving up. Octavia pulls back slightly, just enough to whisper against Clarke’s ear and press a soft line of kisses along her jaw as she talks. 

“Let’s go back to bed. I’ll call in sick tomorrow, we’ll play hooky and spend some time on us. If you want.”

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia bounces in her seat next to Clarke. She has too much energy and they’ve spent much of their time lately in bed. Resting, recovering, rediscovering each other. It hasn’t all been about sleeping, most of it hasn’t, but it’s the weekend again and her shoulder is getting better and she wants to be with Clarke having adventures again. Adventures outside of the bedroom, which is exactly why they're on a cross town bus first thing in the morning. First stop a local park, next stop Abby’s for lunch… or dinner, depending upon how long they’re out.

She had tried to talk Clarke into letting her drive them on her motorcycle, but Clarke’s nerves had gotten the better of her. Octavia decided to pick her battles. Riding she could live without. It was already starting to get cold anyway. Spending time with a smiling Clarke is definitely worth being cooped up on a slow moving bus.

Octavia sighs and leans her head against Clarke’s shoulder. She has a feeling this upswing in Clarke’s mood won’t last long, worried that one wrong move on her part will trigger her back into her depression. These things take time she reminds herself. Clarke will come back to her for longer periods of time, again and again, until for a while, she’ll be okay. Throughout it all Octavia knows she’ll be by her side. Helping, waiting, offering up whatever she can give. She takes Clarke’s hand and squeezes it.

Her heart aches thinking about all the times Clarke has fallen apart and she’s been powerless to stop it. How many times she’s wished she had someone she could fall into while she holds them both afloat. Now the answer seems clear. Lexa could be that someone. Octavia can only offer support and encouragement and a strong shoulder for Clarke to fall against, a warm set of arms to wrap around her, but that strength isn’t infinite. How many mornings had smiling over terrible coffee with Lexa already kept her going?

Clarke nudges her, “Where are we going? And why are we not enjoying our bed? The sun is barely up.” She presses a kiss to Octavia’s hair and Clarke smiles sleepily before resting her chin on Octavia’s shoulder.

Octavia grins and lets her head dip down. She loves Clarke like this, warm and soft and cuddly, following her on adventures at stupid o’clock in the morning just because Octavia asked her to. She kisses Clarke’s forehead. 

“If I told you it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore.”

“Will there be coffee?”

She hums slightly and laughs, “If someone had gotten out of bed when I woke them up they would have already had coffee.”

Clarke pouts and Octavia rolls her eyes, but she reaches up and pulls the cord to signal the bus to stop. 

“First stop coffee.”

Clarke’s face lights up and she kisses Octavia on the cheek, “You’re good to me. Even when you drag me out of bed before the sun.”

Octavia would do anything to see that smile every day.

##  _______________________________________

 

“Lexa!” Clarke calls out and takes a couple quicker steps down the hall to catch up with the other woman. It's been two weeks since they had drinks and true to her word Lexa has pulled back and barely talked to Octavia outside of work. 

Clarke had just finished lunch with Octavia and was hoping to catch Lexa since her office was so close to the precinct. Even if they haven't been talking, Octavia and Clarke had been trying to find a time to at least make one last effort.

Life is a series of choices. Love no less so.

“Hello, Clarke.” Lexa nods at her.

They fall into step together. “I was wondering if you’d had a chance to think about letting me take you on a tour of the museum.”

“Are you certain?” Lexa’s eyes flick back toward the main offices where Octavia’s desk is. Drinks had been a painful event. The conversation with Clarke the following Monday was the only proof she needed that she had hurt more than just herself by acknowledging her own feelings. She’s wary as to why Clarke even wants to speak with her, let alone offer to spend more time with her.

“Yes.” She pauses, trying to gauge the tension between them. There is none of Lexa’s normal fierceness, only a quiet reservation. “My friend is setting up the Diaghilev exhibit and I could get a key from him. Octavia mentioned you used to dance.”

There’s a flicker of excitement in Lexa’s eyes, even though she doesn’t smile. “Okay.”

“Seven on Sunday night?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke slips the key out of the lock and presses on the oversized door, holding it open to let Lexa and Octavia inside the room. She closes the door behind them and the darkness envelopes them all for a few seconds before Clarke finds the light switch. She shoves her hands in her pockets nervously. They aren’t really supposed to be in here but her friend who’s been helping construct the exhibit gave her the key and told her when they could sneak in. She also tipped off Monroe in security that they’d be along and she promised to double check the doors when they left.

Lexa wanders into the center of the first room, a black and white construction, reminiscent of a deconstructed piano is the backdrop for the music scores. They’re in the unopened exhibit for Diaghilev & The Ballet Russes that she’s been dying to see when it opens and she’s in awe barely ten paces into the room. Her hands flit over the glass cases careful not to touch but fingertips trace music scores she knows the sounds of by heart. 

Her foster parents put her in ballet lessons when she moved in and she had danced for years before college became too time consuming to allow her to continue.

Clarke presses a switch hidden behind a panel and the first strands of Stravinsky’s  _ Rite of Spring _ pour out of hidden speakers. A lone basson is joined by clarinets. The music is eerie and alive, a bass clarinet cutting a rhythm underneath the melody. Lexa whirls around and there’s a smile on her face, it’s bright and alive and full of wonder. 

“Not everything is set up, but this room is so magical when you can hear what you’re seeing.” Clarke glances over at Octavia who’s toying with something she probably shouldn’t be touching, and tries to get her to stop with just a look. Octavia nods her head toward Lexa and turns back to the exhibit she’s fiddling with.

Octavia watches as Clarke crosses the room back to Lexa and starts talking in hushed tones about what else is planned for the exhibit and how the pieces fit together. Her eyes are alight and she can hear just by the tone in her voice that she’s ecstatic to have a captive audience in Lexa.

She smiles to herself because it’s good to see them like this, getting along. Even if they’re only all friends this is more than she hoped for after the past few weeks. It’s good to see Clarke like this again. She was losing her light. Maybe even if they just stay the two of them things will be okay.

Part of her wants to cross over to them and listen in but art isn’t her thing, she just wants to be a part of the friendship that’s building. She’s only here because Lexa seemed nervous about spending time with just Clarke, though it barely showed through. Octavia could only tell by the tiniest hesitation in her voice and the rigid way she held her shoulders when the museum adventure had been brought up. She’s glad she gets to watch this unfold, knowing full well that Clarke is still undecided if she just wants to be friends or if she wants to flirt with Lexa. 

At least she had been this morning.

Clarke laughs and Lexa rolls her eyes, biting back a smile. She’s half in teacher and tour guide mode, and half pure excitement over finally seeing what came of the concept drawings, and that Lexa seems to know as much as she does, if not more, about The Ballet Russes, is only fuel to the energy running through her.

The next room is the part she’s most excited to see just because of it’s scale and concept, even if it isn’t finished, it will still be impressive. 

“This is the best part. I mean later on there’s a bunch of Picasso’s work, which is fascinating in its own right, but there’s something special about this.” Clarke starts walking backwards and takes Lexa’s hands in her own, glad when Lexa lets her.

“What is it?”

“Close your eyes.”

They stop walking. Lexa purses her lips. Clarke raises her eyebrow. Neither is willing to move. Octavia watches from the other side of the room transfixed. Lexa waits for an explanation as Clarke waits for her to accept the terms. From where she’s standing she isn’t sure if anyone breaks eye contact.

“You have not told me why I’m closing my eyes, Clarke.”

Clarke matches Lexa’s stare and purses her lips.

Lexa’s hands are cool in Clarke’s. She knows she should have dropped them by now, the way Lexa stopped the moment she told her to close her eyes, but Lexa hasn’t moved to let go either and that thought sends a small thrill through her. This woman is enigmatic and Clarke wants to peel back her layers to see what she is made of, but first there has to be an understanding between them.

“You can trust me, Lexa.” Clarke gives Lexa an earnest smile and squeezes her hands. Lexa rolls her eyes and breathes out through her nose, but she closes her eyes.

Clarke walks Lexa into the next room and stops her just inside the doorway. “Keep your eyes closed.”

She hurries back to the wall and turns on the lights overhead illuminating the room and the massive piece of artwork in it. Clarke’s progress back to Lexa is slower and she takes in the sight of her waiting patiently. She’s starting to enjoy Lexa’s presence, her seriousness, and the slow apprehensive smile that sometimes tugs at the corner of her mouth; she has a dry wit and seems so entirely put together. She knows art too, which is exciting. Octavia tries, but doesn’t understand half of what Clarke rambles on about when they visit museums. Her stomach flutters with excitement as her eyes roam over the tapestry and the woman standing before it. It wasn’t her intent to stand back and stare but she loves this room, the sheer scale of it, the juxtaposition of the small human versus the huge canvas.

She stops just behind Lexa, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her but not quite close enough to touch.

Lexa tenses as Clarke stops behind her. She isn’t used to anyone but Anya being in her personal space and even that isn’t entirely common. She doesn’t move though, Clarke was just holding her hands and is clearly more relaxed with platonic intimacy than most people. There’s an energy that draws her in from Clarke and Octavia tonight that she didn’t expect. Even with the continued promise of wanting to apologize for the way they met Lexa isn’t prepared for the change in energy she feels from Clarke. She’s gone from challenging and angry, to, no less challenging, but softer somehow, curious. 

Lexa lets out a steadying breath, her body betraying her mind, because she feels the need to lean into the warmth behind her but she knows that is the last thing she should do.

Clarke is not hers.

“Can I open my eyes?” She lifts an eyebrow but keeps her eyes shut.

“Go ahead.” Clarke’s breath tickles the back of Lexa’s neck.

Lexa opens her eyes, her gaze scraping up from the floor to the ceiling as she takes in the canvas before her.  _ Firebird _ . She standing in front of the original backdrop for  _ Firebird _ . Slowly, carefully, deliberately she walks forward and stops just short of the massive tapestry. In her head she can hear the frantic notes of  _ Stravinsky’s _ music bringing to life the magical realm of Koschei the Immortal. Before she quit dancing she learned variations from the ballet, it was always one of her favorites.

She reaches out but doesn’t let herself touch the tapestry, her fingertips tracing the weave and detail as if that’s enough. If she can get close enough to the thing, the reality of the dream, maybe it will be real.

Clarke is beside her, closer than last time but still not touching.

So many things in Lexa’s life are like this tapestry. There’s the dream right in front of her, she’s almost touching it but she refuses to reach out and let it be hers.

“Stunning,” Clarke whispers.

Lexa glances at her, but Clarke’s eyes aren’t on the tapestry, they’re on her.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa can’t sit still. Normally she can hold herself calmly immobile long enough for nearly anyone to crack, but Anya has known her for most of her life and knows exactly how to get under her skin. She knows exactly how to push her when she wants to get Lexa to talk. Usually when she feels like she needs it.

This is the last thing she wants to talk about.

“Anya, this is ridiculous, just drop it.”

“No.” Anya leans back on Lexa’s couch watching as she paces around the living room. “This the first time you’ve admitted feelings for anyone since Costia left.”

She didn’t mean to admit that her feelings for Octavia had somehow extended to Clarke. Even if she doesn’t want to acknowledge that the way Clarke looked at her as they stood in front of the  _ Firebird _ tapestry sent butterflies through her stomach, she can’t deny it, even if she’d rather digest the butterflies than acknowledge them. Just like she can’t deny the visceral pain she feels when Costia is mentioned. “Can you not bring her up?”

“You have got to move on.”

Lexa whirls around, “I have!”

“No you haven’t,” Anya scoffs.

“Who exactly am I supposed to be moving on with? Octavia?  _ Clarke? _ ” Lexa crosses her arms, her hands in fists tucked protectively between her biceps and body. There is nothing she can do about her feelings so they’re about as useless as sunglasses under a new moon.

“Yourself!” Anya gestures at Lexa and at herself. “She left you, we’ve all been left.”

“She didn’t just leave me, Anya.”

“I know Lexa.”

They’ve been over this a hundred times. Anya practically lived it when it happened. She doesn’t really need the reminder but Lexa can feel the anger and pain of it all boiling just beneath the surface like it was yesterday and she has to let it out. She stalks towards Anya, her voice cold and harsh.

“I bought a ring, I was in the process of transferring schools. We were falling apart because she decided to do her research at the Sorbonne and I was fighting for us and she kept telling me she would too, that she would never leave me.”

“Lexa-”

“She let me get through my entire proposal and she turned around and told me she couldn’t let me uproot my life for her because she had a crush on some girl she’d just met. She left for Europe and cut me out of her life without another word, Anya.”

“Lexa-”

“I know for a fact that girl didn’t even go to Europe with her. It’s been five years and I haven’t heard a single word from her.”

Anya stands up, putting her toe to toe with Lexa, they’re the same height and Lexa nearly takes a step back as she feels the frustration roll off her foster sister.

“Alexandria!” Anya follows her half a step back, her eyes devoid of any sympathy. They’ve had this fight too many times. “You and Costia, it’s over. Let it go.”

Lexa takes another step backwards and Anya lets her retreat. Her hands are trembling and she knows Anya is right. It’s been too long and even if she never planned a future that didn’t someone account for Costia coming back one day it’s time she stop letting herself indulge in that dream.

“She was supposed to be everything,” her voice almost cracks and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. She looks up, avoiding Anya’s gaze which has softened. If she makes eye contact she’ll break, she’ll cry.

“And for a while she was.” Anya takes a step forward, her thin arms folding around Lexa and pulling her close. She presses a kiss to her hair like she did when they were young and Lexa was scared. “Maybe that’s all she’ll ever be, someone who was for a while. And that’s okay, not everyone is forever.”

Lexa turns her head to hide her face against Anya’s neck, nestling into the hug, as hot tears spill down her cheeks. “What do I do now?”

“What do you want?”

##  _______________________________________

 

They've seen Lexa three times since the museum. Each time she seemed a little brighter to Clarke, her smile reaching beyond her eyes, her impassable face breaking open and coming alive. She started to look at Clarke the way she looked at Octavia.

It’s intoxicating, and confusing.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “Are you coming to bed?”

“Yeah in a few.” Clarke sets down the drawing she stopped working on an hour ago and leans back into the couch. She’s distracted lately. Nothing is coming together like she needs it too, she's too overwhelmed to focus long enough to create anything.

“Everything okay?”

“Of course.” Clarke lies, there’s an uneasy feeling in her stomach that she’s trying to ignore that has everything to do with her girlfriend’s crush on another woman. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Are you still alright with us hanging out with Lexa?” Octavia curls up next to her on the couch, nearly laying on top of Clarke as she does. Her face is pressed into the curve of Clarke’s neck and Clarke can feel her breath warm on her skin.

When Octavia is like this she feels like they might make it through together. When she can feel her girlfriend’s heartbeat and feel her warm next to her. When for a moment they are the only two people left in the world and she just wants to get lost in the feeling of their bodies next to each other.

Except there’s the gnawing feeling in her stomach like she’s just deluding herself, that no matter what she’ll lose Octavia to Lexa. 

“Yeah.” Clarke’s voice sounds smaller than she likes so she nuzzles her head against Octavia’s, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Octavia knows that timbre of Clarke’s voice, knows she isn’t saying what’s on her mind. She pulls back and turns Clarke’s chin so they’re eye to eye. “You know, you’re enough for me, Clarke. If you want to stop this we can.” Her heart speeds up, afraid Clarke’s answer will have changed, but knowing she can't ask Clarke to do anything that would make her uncomfortable.

“Do you want to?”

Octavia shakes her head no, biting her lip to try to keep from smiling. After Clarke’s breakdown they’ve been okay, and things with Lexa have been nice, even if all they are right now is friends. It’s fun and exciting and she likes it. Having Clarke with her in this makes it that much better, that much more worth it.

She only has a moment to register the flash of sadness in Clarke’s eyes before Clarke kisses her. It’s a heady, passionate, distracting kiss and Clarke bites Octavia’s bottom lip, tugging at it for a second before pulling back. Octavia whines slightly when she does.

“It’s decided then.”

Clarke pushes Octavia down onto the couch, any thought of going to bed gone.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa chews on the inside of her lip, mindful to not smudge her lipstick as she walks past the rows of tables in the open office and towards Clarke’s glass office. Lunch at the museum had been an impulse, she wanted to see Clarke and to say thank you for the private tour, but couldn't quite convince herself that getting lunch, alone, with Clarke would be a good idea, so she’d walked around downstairs until her stomach insisted she put something in it. Bringing Clarke coffee had also been an impulse. Even if Clarke had never found out she stopped by today she would feel guilty for not trying. Anya must be finally wearing her down.

She almost turned around when she was stopped at the front desk but talking her way past the secretary had been as easy as a slight smile and a well timed laugh. Lexa can see Clarke hunched over her desk, a pencil twitching between her fingers and another few tucked into her hair which is barely secured in a wild bun. She pauses outside the glass door and watches her for a moment, awestruck, trying not to get lost in how stunning Clarke is.

Clarke looks up and Lexa hurriedly pushes into the room as if to not be caught staring.

“I stopped by the museum on my lunch break and thought I'd bring you coffee,” Lexa smiles and crosses the room. She holds out one of the paper cups from the cafe downstairs. “I texted Octavia to see how you take yours, one sugar, a splash of soy? Right?” 

There’s a flicker of a smile on Clarke’s lips as she takes the coffee from Lexa. “Yes, I- Thank you,” Her fingers wrap around the warmth as if it’ll seep into her bones and make her feel alive. Even with all of Octavia’s promises that she is enough she’s stopped feeling like she is and it's left her hollow.

A fluttering between her ribcage makes her look up again at Lexa leaned casually against one of the chairs on the other side of her desk in a white pantsuit. She’s just as gorgeous as the day they met, but Clarke can't compare her to marble any longer, there's a warmth to Lexa now that she knows where to look. All the soft lines of well worn stone, the tenderness so carefully guarded, it’s all directed at Clarke right in that moment.

“Thank you,” the words come out again. Lexa raises a questioning eyebrow. “For thinking of me.” 

Lexa smiles. Clarke feels a smile of her own break across her face as she stands up to make her way around her desk. She perches just in front of Lexa, their knees nearly touching.

“So you're just bringing me coffee?” Clarke can't remember the last time Octavia stopped by for lunch or coffee just because. The last time she did the little things. She remembers every time though that she came back from a meeting to an office full of roses and a giggling assistant. It's different though.

Lexa is different.

“Yes, just coffee.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to.”

Clarke sets the coffee down and stands, wrapping her arms around Lexa before she’s had a chance to think the action through. They both freeze, neither breathing but in tiny shallow breaths. Slowly Lexa’s arms come up to return the hug for only the briefest moment before Clarke pulls away and retreats back around her desk to sit in her own chair.

She isn’t entirely certain what possessed her to hug Lexa but she is glad she did.

If she’s honest she wants to again, but not now. Now would be incredibly awkward.

Lexa clears her throat, “I should get back to work. It was good to see you, Clarke.”

“You too, Lexa.”

Clarke watches Lexa’s retreating figure and wonders what the hell just happened.

##  _______________________________________

 

“It’s freezing up here!” Clarke blows on her hands and rubs them together.

“It’s beautiful,” Lexa leans on the railing, “Maybe you’d be warmer if you had joined in the race.” She winks at Clarke before turning back to look out over the city with its handful of skyscrapers and highrises, and endless sprawl of 150 year old suburbia. Portland opens up beneath them, a soft sprawl of brick and green, the roads veins running north and south, east to west. From up here it’s calm.

Octavia pauses and watches Clarke and Lexa, ignoring how the cups of coffee are starting to scald her bare hands. The crisp November air tugs wisps of hair free from her ponytail, and she can tell that she’s lost feeling in her nose. She doesn’t care; her heart is warm and full.

The hike to the top of the hill had taken longer than Lexa’s research had told them, but that had probably been Octavia’s fault as she scampered off the trail more than she stayed on it. Clarke had happily chased after, climbing fallen trees and scrambling over rocks. Lexa begrudgingly trailed behind, rolling her eyes at Octavia’s antics, until Octavia had issued a challenge. After that all bets were off. Lexa laughed as she ran past Octavia, a quarter of the way up the embankment by the time Octavia realized her challenge had been accepted. 

The race had ended with them both winded and gasping for breath as they leaned over the railing, shoulders brushing together. Her heart had soared with it, the brightness in Lexa’s eyes as she smiled, the soft earnest moment of hope and happiness. It was one of those moments where kissing crosses your mind and the thought won’t leave. She pushed off the railing instead and offered to go buy coffees and water because of course there was a little coffee cart up here.

There’s coffee everywhere in this city.

Octavia smiles to herself and watches Lexa take Clarke’s hands between her own rubbing them quickly before bringing them to her mouth and blowing on them. Clarke is looking at Lexa like she doesn’t know what to do but she doesn’t want to stop this moment. Lexa’s mouth is upturned in the barest of smiles. There’s an innocence to it, something pure and good and Octavia can’t bring herself to interrupt.

She wants her hands free so she can grab her phone, capture this moment, the pale blue winter sky and low hanging afternoon sun making everything glow warmly even as they freeze. That kind of cold where you feel alive. Right now she feels so incredibly alive. Octavia breathes in and wonders how she ended up here. She spent so much time believing she would never find anyone, never feel forever in someone’s hands, and now she doesn’t want to think about what will happen if Lexa doesn’t love them back, or if this breaks up her and Clarke.

She pushes the thought of this failing aside because right now Clarke is smiling and Lexa is more relaxed than Octavia has ever seen her and this is what they were missing.

A million moments like this one would never be enough. It feels like what she’s been searching for since she was too young to understand what she needed. What she wanted. When Octavia had started dating Clarke she thought that was it, she had her family, her home, her everything. With Lexa though they’re more. It’s everything. Just like Clarke was everything, so is Clarke  _ and _ Lexa.

This feels a lot like falling in love.

Octavia takes a few more steps forward, bumping her hip against Clarke’s as she stops between her and Lexa. 

“It’s hot,” Octavia says as she offers up the paper cups.

“Perfect,” Clarke reaches out for a coffee, snatching it into her hands and huddling around it.

“Thank you,” Lexa smiles.

This feels a lot like belonging.

 

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa still isn’t quite sure what’s come over her even as she’s cooking dinner for Clarke and Octavia and herself, sipping on a glass of wine and waiting for them to arrive. It's been a long time since she entertained company. Aside from Anya she hasn’t had any close friends since undergrad… since Costia. Lexa shakes her head trying to clear the thought because every time she thinks about Costia she’s reminded of the pain of it all and tries to push everyone away. She’s good at it too.

Too good.

Nerves flutter in her normally iron stomach. Her apartment is too clean, too sterile. It looks like a magazine photoshoot and not some place that someone lives. No one ever visits her here. It’s too intimate, too personal having people here. Lexa has become so adept at keeping everyone at arm’s length that she's forgotten how to do this. She's forgotten all the reasons it's worth risking the hurt. She knocks back the last of her wine.

There's a knock on the door, and Lexa can hear a giggle from the other side. When she opens the door Octavia crashes into her with a hug as she has taken to doing.

“Lexa!”

The wind is nearly knocked out of her, “Hey, O.” She smiles at Clarke over Octavia's shoulder, “Clarke.”

“Hey.”

Octavia slides into the apartment leaving Lexa and Clarke to regard each other. Lexa starts to step back, a shy smile as she turns to usher Clarke in, but as she takes half a step back Clarke takes half a step forward and wraps her arms around Lexa. It’s a brief hug, but in it Lexa feels a quiet tight desperation and she holds Clarke as close as she can for the briefest of seconds before it ends. 

She shakes her head as Clarke follows Octavia. Her job is to understand people, figure out what motivates them so she can bring justice into the world. For all she understands she doesn't see how she fits into what is happening between the three of them, or even what that is. Threesomes are usually little more than a passing night of fun, and this is much more than that. She’s making friends, she reminds herself, that’s all.

Octavia crosses the room and stands in front of the floor to ceiling windows. The sun is setting, casting the sky in purples and oranges as darkness brings on the night and the lights of the city start to glow below. “This view is amazing.”

“You should see the view from my sister’s place.”

“You have a sister?” Clarke asks from behind her where she’s hanging up their jackets.

Lexa clenches her teeth. She hasn’t talked about herself with anyone in a long time, but the more time she spends with Clarke and Octavia the more she feels a pull to open up, just a little bit. “Foster sister, actually.” 

“Does she live around here? If she does you should invite her for drinks one of these times.” Clarke crosses the large open room to Octavia and can't help but notice how empty sterile the room is, how unlike their apartment it is. When Lexa had invited them over she had hoped they might get to see a bit more about who she is, but this place just looks like a magazine shoot, all sleek black and stark white, a few burned out candles carefully cleaned of melted wax. 

Clarke leans her head on Octavia’s shoulder watching the setting sun before turning to press a kiss against Octavia’s neck. 

“She’s often in demand.” Lexa turns back to the stove. “She’s a designer for Station Designs.”

Clarke turns, excited, and makes her way into the kitchen. “No way! I've been eyeing one of their dresses for months.”

“You should let me know which one and your size,” Lexa glances at Clarke and offers her a smile. Truth is she could probably easily get the dress on discount or if they had one with a tiny flaw Anya could get it free. It's the least she could do. She still feels like she owes Clarke a debt for looking past the problems she's caused.

“Is there anything we can help with?” Octavia slides into the kitchen and jumps up onto the counter nearly placing her hand on the stove.

Both Lexa and Clarke lunge toward her to keep her from burning herself. There's an awkward moment where Lexa steps back and Clarke picks up Octavia's hand to inspect it.

“Are you accident prone or do you just prefer to live dangerously?” Lexa purses her lips and motions for Octavia to scoot further away from the stove.

Octavia shrugs and grabs a carrot from the salad bowl, snacking on it as she talks. “What can I say I like the adrenaline rush.”

“It's a wonder you haven't wrecked your motorcycle, I still can't believe you almost crashed during that high speed chase the other week, and you’re so calm about it.” Lexa sighs and hands the bowl of salad to Octavia, “Start taking things out?” Turning to Clarke, she drops her voice, “I don't know how you deal with worrying all the time.”

Clarke is pale and she's watching Octavia bounce into the dining area as if she might disappear and never return. It's clear to Lexa that Clarke never heard about the almost wreck that could have taken her girlfriend's life. Grabbing plates and a few other things she hurries out after Octavia to give her something to do for a minute while Clarke composes herself.

Lexa walks back into the kitchen, and starts finishing up the chicken on the stove.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice is quiet as she leans on the counter. “When was this almost accident?”

“The day before we met.”

Clarke purses her lips, and nods several times like she's putting something together. Lexa takes a step toward her and they're nearly shoulder to shoulder.

“I'm sorry, Clarke.” Her voice is low, barely crossing the small space between them. “I assumed she would have told you. It wasn't my intent to upset you.”

Clarke looks over at Lexa, meeting her green eyes, wide and searching, and is surprised to see worry etched on her features. The way the fine arch of her eyebrow runs against the furrow of her brow. She can't say she's surprised Octavia never told her, but it hurts. There's nothing to be done about it now. She swallows down the panic selling in her chest and nods to Lexa. “It isn't your fault.” She knows sometimes Octavia doesn't tell her about work because it worries her to hear about all the moments in which she could have died, but usually the story comes out before this long has passed. “Let's finish up getting dinner on the table. It smells amazing.”

She smiles at Lexa, bumping their shoulders together. Dinner is a cabbage and kale salad and lemon chicken with a fresh loaf of bread warming in the oven. Somehow it doesn't surprise her that Lexa is a skilled cook.

Clarke glances to Octavia, who is uncorking a bottle of white wine, oblivious to the conversation she and Lexa just had in the kitchen. Setting the chicken down in the center of the table she stalks across the room and kisses Octavia soundly needing to feel her alive, even if it’s been a month and she can’t get into the why of it now, she needs it. If either of them notice Lexa retreating quickly back into the kitchen they don't show it. Clarke’s fingers tangle in Octavia’s hair and for a brief minute they lose themselves in the kiss.

Octavia pushes back breathless and mildly confused. She glances quickly at the kitchen to see Lexa with her head buried in the refrigerator, and then back to Clarke who looks nonplussed by the entire exchange.

“What was that?” She hooks her hand around Clarke’s waist and pulls her closer, her eyes searching Clarke’s face for any indication as to why she's just kissed her so intensely. Not that Octavia is complaining.

“Nothing, just, I love you, you’re an idiot, but I love you.”

Clarke pulls away and moves back to help Lexa with the rest of the food, thankful for the truth and the distraction from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with reactions and questions.
> 
> Check out my [OT4 tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) on tumblr for headcanons, if you need a fix before next Friday.


	6. The Seduction of Lexa Woods part 5 | 2 years 7 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun these past few weeks answering headcanon questions about the girls in this 'verse. You can check out all my answers [here](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic). I've done my best to keep everything spoiler free.  
> Also, thank you all for the kind words and support! We're to the last chapter of the _first_ flashback (there are 7 total). _The Seduction of Lexa Woods_ is coming to a close, but the story is just really getting started.

Clarke picks up her phone as it vibrates, pulling her from her daydream. She should be working on the proposal for next season’s classes anyway. She needs to rearrange her schedule to accommodate more hours painting for Gallery 2149. She’s also trying to convince the owner that she should continue coordinating shows and galas now that his assistant isn’t coming back.

That’s a long way off. She still has to start selling paintings, and prove she knows her stuff.

 _Lexa 11:45am:_ _Hey Clarke, movie night tonight, yes?_

 _Clarke 11:45am:_ _yep. 7?_

A few minutes pass before the next text comes in. It’s strange, texting with Lexa. She’s even more to the point than she is face to face and no topic ever seems too in depth or too complex for her to tackle. Usually though it’s just confirming plans, or asking if she wants to meet for an impromptu cup of coffee in the museum cafe.

Lexa’s shown up more than once to buy her coffee and Clarke would be amiss if she said it wasn’t pleasant to have someone pay her that kind of attention. Sometimes Octavia gets wrapped up in work.

 _Lexa 11:52am:_ _Seven is fine._

 _Lexa 11:53am:_ _And Clarke? Is everything okay?_

 _Clarke 11:55am:_ _of course! why wouldn’t it be?_

 _Lexa 11:56am:_ _You just sound sad sometimes._

 _Lexa 11:56am:_ _I think you’re quite amazing, let me know if I can do anything._

 _Lexa 11:56am:_ _If you need to talk I’m here._

Clarke doesn’t know how to respond because Lexa is right. Even if she’s been trying to hide it, trying to keep this feeling to herself, it’s leaking through. But nothing is wrong anymore, her girlfriend is devoted, and they’re spending time with someone new, who happens to be pragmatic and kind and thoughtful and beautiful and adept at stealing hearts just by breathing.

Clarke doesn’t know why, but she trusts Lexa.

 _Lexa 12:08pm:_ _Also, you can tell me to mind my own business if I’m overstepping propriety again…_

 _Clarke 12:09pm:_ _no! you’re fine!_

 _Clarke 12:12pm:_ _you’re right_

 _Clarke 12:12pm:_ _i’ve been sad for a while,_

 _Clarke 12:12pm:_ _i don’t know if i want to talk_

 _Lexa 12:13pm:_ _Thank you for trusting me, Clarke._

 _Lexa 12:13pm:_ _I’ll see you tonight._

And that’s it.

No questions.

No prying.

Just acceptance.

Clarke breathes out a sigh of relief. The ache in her chest is ever present but she isn’t the only one who knows it is there and somehow that makes it lighter even if the pain doesn’t dull.

## _______________________________________

 

The clock has just turned seven when there’s a knock on the door. Octavia bounces up off the couch, pulling open the door and Lexa into the apartment with it. She hugs her quickly, barely giving Lexa time to return it before scurrying into the kitchen to pour wine and start making popcorn. She’s been excited about this all day.

Getting to spend time with Clarke and Lexa at the same time is the best part of her week, and each time they’re together it feels like they’re moving closer. She hopes she isn’t the only one that feels like this, that these feelings aren’t one sided.

Lexa shuts the door behind her smiling softly as she watches Octavia flit across the kitchen area. Leaving her boots by the door with her jacket, she moves over to where Clarke is drawing at the coffee table. The apartment is tiny, the couch barely inside the front door, the kitchen looking out over the living room with no wall in between. Lexa kneels down next to Clarke who had barely muttered hello when she came in.

She’s engrossed in her work, a close up detail of a woman’s neck. The work is incredibly lifelike, a graphite sketch that looks like a photograph. Clarke is a talented artist.

Lexa reaches out and brushes a stray lock of hair back from Clarke’s face so she can see her better. Her brow is furrowed, and her face smudged with graphite. The intensity of her gaze never wavers even as a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth at Lexa’s touch. She’s working on the woman’s ear, and the intricate curves of the auricle.

Lexa waits, content to watch Clarke work.

With a burst of movement and an exhale Clarke sets down her sketch pad on the table and her pencils with it. She stretches her arms high overhead and her arms crack with the stretch.

“Hey, Lexa.” Clarke’s voice is heavy and rough.

“Hey,” Lexa takes the acknowledgement as an excuse to scoot closer. She searches Clarke’s eyes for any indication of how she feels now, how steady a hold her sadness has on her. What she sees tugs at her heart because Clarke doesn’t hold back in her gaze and Lexa knows she’s the cause. So she takes Clarke’s pain and sees it, lets Clarke know she does. It’s all she can do.

Wordlessly Clarke falls into Lexa’s arms as they encircle her and hold her firmly, for just a moment she is Clarke’s strength.

Clarke’s heart is pounding and she simultaneously wants to run away, and to never let go. This woman is part of the reason she feels sad, but also, she’s the one who’s acknowledging that sadness, and the conflicting feelings she has about that leave Clarke feeling uncertain. Lexa’s heartbeat is steady against her cheek, her chin curving protectively over the top of her head, and it feels a bit like home. Clarke inhales sharply, pushing down tears and pulls back.

She wants this but she isn’t ready.

“Okay so we’ve got all the Harry Potter movies, and the Pirates of the Caribbean ones too… then Clarke’s got a bunch of space documentaries...” Octavia sets a giant bowl of popcorn next to Clarke’s art supplies, oblivious to the profundity of the exchange she just missed.

 _Thank you_ , Clarke mouths to Lexa when Octavia steps away.

“Now we’ve just got to choose which one to watch, or do we want to risk scrolling through movies on Netflix for half an hour?” Octavia returns, setting down a bottle of wine and three glasses on the table.

Clarke moves her things, tucking them into the bin underneath the table where she keeps them.

“I’m in the mood for a comedy,” Lexa announces in such a matter of fact way as she moves from the floor to the couch that Clarke feels like a laugh will burst from her chest if she only lets it because she knows Lexa’s declaration is for her benefit.

Clarke slides up next to Lexa and pulls Octavia down on her other side. Octavia falls back with a shriek and a laugh. In an instant the mood in the room changes from divided to synchronous, all three of them content as they arrange themselves on the couch. Octavia hands out glasses of wine, Clarke commandeers the popcorn bowl, and Lexa opens up Netflix to find something to watch.

They let themselves be sucked into the cheap jokes and the ridiculous plot, slowly falling further together and sinking into the couch as the movie progresses.

Clarke leans against Octavia whose arms are wrapped around her protectively. She has her knees tucked up and Lexa is leaning against them, one arm thrown across Clarke’s lap. If it weren’t for the occasional shake of near laughter she would think her asleep.

As the end credits roll none of them are quick to move, afraid to break the calming trust that has blossomed between them. Lexa rubs her thumb across the seam of Clarke’s jeans and knows she should get home, but she’s warm and doesn’t want to lose this feeling of belonging by leaving.

She glances over as Clarke turns her head to kiss Octavia and she feels a blush creep across her cheeks; she’s still touching both of them and they’re kissing. Lexa sits up, trying not to disturb their moment, but Clarke pulls back from Octavia and even in the darkened room Lexa can see the hesitation in her eyes.

“Are you going?” Clarke rasps.

A smile tugs at the corner of Lexa’s voice because she’s starting to love the way Clarke’s voice gets rough when she doesn’t speak for a while. “It is late, and two of us have an eight a.m. meeting.”

“You know you could change when we meet to go over cases.” Octavia leans her head back against the arm of the couch, burrowing down further.

“Yes, but I won’t.” She stands up in one fluid motion, patting Clarke’s knee and placing on a hand on Octavia’s shoulder as she passes. “See you in the morning, Octavia. Goodnight, Clarke.”

“Night,” they both answer in unison as Lexa slips out the door.

## _______________________________________

 

Once a week dinners quickly turned into multiple nights a week. Each passing day their interactions doubling exponentially. They fell into a rhythm, comforting as it was confusing. Having secured the leftover Thai food in the fridge, Clarke leans against the wall and watches Octavia and Lexa on the couch. The bottle of whiskey they’d all been nursing all night securely dangles between her fingers. It’s strange watching Octavia curled up with Lexa, but there’s also something right about it.

Every time the three of them are together they fall a little bit further into each other, and Clarke feels that somehow this thing might actually work. Impossibly she might not lose her girlfriend to another woman, but instead find herself in an even more unconventional relationship than the one she already has.

Her head is fuzzy and she tries not to think too hard about it or how she feels about the sight of Octavia cuddling with Lexa, both now horizontal on the couch. Octavia’s laugh is enough to pull a smile to her lips and she doesn’t quite want to interrupt but she also doesn’t want to be left out. She takes another sip of whiskey and pads back over to the couch, standing at the end of it and wondering exactly how three grown women can fit on a couch laying down. There’s exactly one place that she can see, but she isn’t sure she’s ready.

“Where do I fit in this?”

Clarke’s voice breaks through the moment and both Octavia and Lexa look up from where they’re curled into each other lying down on the couch. Octavia’s nose brushes Lexa’s cheek. Lexa takes a sharp inhale and pulls back slightly because the ache behind her ribcage mirrored in the ache between her thighs is being coaxed on by the whiskey in her blood, and this is not the time for that. These are her friends, and their relationship is precarious.

What she wants doesn’t matter.

Lexa settles further onto her back and Octavia presses against her side as she shifts to stay on the couch. Clarke frowns slightly taking a sip of whiskey from the bottle dangling between her fingers, but there’s a hint of mischief in her eyes. Lexa raises an eyebrow because she’s certain what Clarke is thinking, because it’s what she’s thinking, and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to handle it.

She lifts her hand and curls a finger, beckoning Clarke to come lay down on top of her. Her heart speeds up as she does because there are so many things that could go wrong with this moment. She blames the whiskey. Clarke could lay down on top of her, but her girlfriend is right there. Octavia is already curled up against Lexa and _her girlfriend is right there_. Lexa isn’t sure how she ended up in the middle of this. She isn’t complaining. Except she’s also worried what it will mean for their friendship if anything happens.

There are too many thoughts rushing through her head for the amount of whiskey she’s had.

Every single one of them stops as Clarke crawls over the arm of the couch, continuing forward until she is hovering over Lexa. She’s staring up into Clarke’s eyes lost in the blue crystalline structure just barely visible around her pupils which are large from the alcohol and the dim light, and maybe something more.

Clarke sits up, straddling Lexa. She closes her eyes and takes another sip of whiskey straight from the bottle. Lexa is transfixed by the sight above her. Clarke’s tank top hangs off one shoulder, the fabric loose with wear from the day and Lexa can’t decide who is more distracting, Clarke above her or Octavia beside her with her arm tucked under Lexa’s neck and her fingertips lightly brushing down her arm. No one has held her like this since Costia left and it’s all at once overwhelming and welcomed.

They’ve had too much whiskey for this to be happening. They’ve had too much whiskey, that’s why this is happening.

Lexa swallows down a moan as Clarke lowers herself on top of her staying propped up on her elbows as their torsos press together and their legs tangle. It feels like a lifetime since Clarke was still standing at the end of the couch and nothing will be the same after this because Lexa knows some feelings, once felt, are not so easily pushed aside. Clarke’s face is inches from hers, she turns her head slightly only to be reminded that Octavia is equally as close.

Her heart thuds wildly in her chest.

Clarke raises an eyebrow and wiggles down just a little bit, “Is this what you had in mind?”

She grins as Lexa only nods, her eyes dark, and her normal easy composure, strained. Clarke is drunk enough that she doesn’t stop herself, instead indulging in the feeling of feeling warm and safe and wanted. Everything about tonight feels right and she wants to hold onto this fleeting moment because by morning this will be all but a drunken memory.

Octavia’s arm has curled around her waist and Lexa has a hand on her hip and it sends a thrill through her.

Kissing Lexa would be easy right now.

If she kissed Lexa though they could all brush it off as whiskey induced, friends getting too close. Clarke closes her eyes and rests her forehead against Lexa’s, noses brush against cheeks, and Clarke wants to lean in, close the last remaining distance between her and Lexa who is trembling beneath her. She can feel Lexa’s breath on her face and it’s too much because even the slightest touch leaves her wanting.

Octavia tugs gently on Clarke’s waist and pulls her over and into a kiss. Clarke presses into it, her brain vaguely registering that her hands are on Lexa still even though she’s kissing Octavia, and that maybe this isn’t the best way to try to seduce someone. Maybe it is. All she knows is that she likes this and she thinks they might all give in to the desire that is building between them, tumbling together in a heated tangle of limbs when Lexa lets out a frustrated huff of air beneath her.

Clarke pulls back from Octavia, cheeks hot with alcohol, burning hotter with embarrassment. That kiss was entirely more involved than it should have been.

“Sorry,” Clarke whispers against Lexa’s collarbone, her lips brushing the soft skin there as she hides her face.

A hand tangles in her hair as she settles down, laying her head against Lexa’s chest. Clarke realizes it’s Lexa’s fingers, not Octavia’s that are softly scratching against her scalp. The three of them are breathing heavier than they should be, full of almosts and want. If one of them were to lose their carefully constructed control they would burn gloriously bright in an alcohol fuelled bacchanal.

It’s a choice to stay still just like love is a choice. It comes to her in that drunken way that thoughts do when the brain is too full of feeling and emotion and alcohol that there’s a resounding echo as everything else falls away. She doesn’t think she loves Lexa, not yet, but she likes her, and she wouldn’t, except she chose to try.

The world spins, dipping beneath her even as the only real movement is the gentle rise and fall of Lexa’s chest.

Clarke only has a second to react, her stomach twisting and clenching as she scrambles to untangle herself from two sets of arms and legs. She isn’t sure how she grabbed the sac their takeout had come in, or managed to only throw up in it, but she did. Any sense of accomplishment in that is marred by the pounding in her head and the knowledge that she’s heaving into a plastic bag still half tangled up in two beautiful women.

Hands hold her hair back and someone is rubbing her back as her body tries to expel the contents of her stomach. She hates throwing up.That last sip had sent her over the edge. Her head throbs as her head fills with pressure from the force of it. For a moment it calms, and her breath comes again in gasps. She needs something cold. She needs a wash cloth.

Octavia takes the sac from Clarke gingerly, and shoots an apologetic tight lipped smile at Lexa. She knew Clarke had been drunk, but not quite this drunk because she had eaten with the rest of them. Tying the bag shut she hurries to the kitchen to deposit it in the trash before it starts leaking everywhere and creates an absolute mess in Lexa’s pristine apartment. This is bad enough. She feels the room spin as she crashes back into the couch.

“Lexa, I’m sorry,” Octavia tries to help Clarke to standing but she’s curled up on herself and adamantly drunkenly refusing to move. “I’ll get her home and-”

“Neither of you are going anywhere.”

Octavia has no idea how Lexa sounds so entirely sober because there’s no way that she is.

Clarke is making a high pitched whine as she slowly edges towards the floor and Octavia stands quickly knowing what is coming next. “I should probably get her to the bathroom.”

“I’ve got her.” Lexa picks Clarke up easily, since she’s still half in Lexa’s lap anyway. Clarke is mumbling, slurring her words and they can only pick up a few _sorry, drunk, mess_. The walk to the bathroom takes longer than it should as Lexa stops to lean against the wall, more intoxicated than she had anticipated and Clarke’s body is dead weight in her arms: a drunken, whimpering, adorable, dead weight, even though she just nearly threw up on her livingroom floor.

“I can walk,” Clarke murmurs against Lexa’s neck.

“No you can’t,” Lexa glances at Octavia who is walking down the hall in front of her, one hand on the wall to keep her upright.

“Neither can you, we’re not moving.” Clarke nudges her head against Lexa and moans in pain as her head spins.

Lexa rolls her eyes and pushes off the wall. It’s going to be a long night.

## _______________________________________

 

“Lexa, last night,” Clarke crosses her arms across her chest, her heart pounding as hard as her head. She’s standing in Lexa’s kitchen in an oversized shirt and a pair of running shorts that aren’t hers making pancakes and it isn’t lost on her how much this seems like a morning after, except it isn’t, even if they all shared a bed.

“It’s fine, Clarke.” A small smile twitches at the corner of her mouth but she doesn’t move to cross any of the distance between them. If last night showed her anything it’s that maybe they’re all getting too close. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to, but Lexa is anything if not adept at controlling her actions. “It happens to all of us.”

She doesn’t want to know if Clarke was talking about nearly kissing, or vomitting. In the morning light both are hard to think about and she can’t focus on the memory of Clarke hovering above her, or the feeling of her lips pressed against her skin as she whispered. She doesn’t want to think about how it only happened because they were all drunk.

This is why Lexa doesn’t drink with people she doesn’t trust.

Clarke nods, not entirely sure which incident Lexa is referring to, but not sure that it matters. They all remember what happened last night even as there are parts Clarke wishes she could forget.

Lexa watches as Clarke turns back to the stove and the pancakes she’s cooking at three in the afternoon because none of them could make it out of bed until now. Clarke is wearing an old shirt of Lexa’s and so is Octavia, though she’s curled around a mug of coffee at the table. Lexa wonders idly when her life got away from her because if someone had asked her a month ago if she thought this would be happening she would have laughed in their face.

“Here,” Lexa lays down a few ibuprofen on the table in front of Octavia with a glass of water.

Octavia smiles up at her and winces with the movement. “Thanks.” Her brain feels like someone ran sandpaper over it. She tries not to think about waking up curled against Lexa’s shoulder, their legs tangled together and how soft she was. She’s certain they won’t be talking about that during their next briefing at work, or how they had taken turns drunkenly trying to take care of Clarke who was in and out of the bathroom until sunrise so none of them really slept until past the time they would normally be awake.

Clarke is making her _I’m sorry_ pancakes, which happen every time she ends up too drunk. Lately she’s been making them a lot. She watches as Lexa moves to Clarke, handing her the same regime: ibuprofen and water, before insisting she take it. Lexa refills their water, pours more coffee, moves around the kitchen cleaning up after Clarke as Clarke tries to insist she’ll do once they’ve eaten.

It’s so incredibly comfortable, and Octavia thinks for the first time that this might work out.

## _______________________________________

 

Lexa collapses onto the couch having just said goodbye to Clarke and Octavia, and dials Anya without opening her eyes. Her head is throbbing still even though she’s had several glasses of water and a full breakfast thanks to Clarke who somehow managed to get out of bed before either her or Octavia. Maybe her headache is due more to the whiplash emotions she’s feeling rather than the night of drinking.

She groans as the phone starts ringing.

She isn’t sure if Clarke and Octavia are just naturally flirtatious and open to platonic touches and cuddling, and nearly kissing, or if they are actually flirting with her, because they are dating, but sometimes one of them looks at Lexa like she’s important, like she matters, or they touch her like they’re waiting for her to say it’s okay. She isn’t sure what they’re waiting on because deep down she's waiting to fall into their touch.The way they look at her isn’t a way you look at a friend, not when your girlfriend is watching you nearly kiss a friend from a few inches away.

You don’t brush your fingertips down your friend’s arm.

Or rest your hand just underneath the hem of their shirt.

Or curl around them in the middle of the night.

It doesn’t help that their touches send shivers through her, or that she wants more. She came close enough to breaking them up before she knew they were together she isn’t about to ruin them now. She has to stay strong. They seem happy, it isn’t her place to change that.

“...hello?” Anya says, for what Lexa realizes isn’t the first time.

“Hey,” Lexa rasps.

“Rough night?”

“Octavia and Clarke crashed here last night.” Lexa rubs the bridge of her nose but she’s smiling. “Clarke made us pancakes.”

“You sound happy underneath that hangover.”

“Nothing happened, Anya. Our relationship isn’t like that.” Her voice doesn’t sound quite as certain as her words.

“But you admit there’s a relationship.”

Lexa lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Things either are or aren’t, Lexa. What happened?”

“We were piled on the couch talking and drank almost an entire bottle of whiskey between the three of us. Clarke got sick, so they stayed over.”

“Back up, because you don’t just start your night piled on a couch drinking whiskey.”

“That’s what it was. We ordered take out and threw on some movie we never watched and by the end of the night Clarke was laying on my stomach and Octavia was curled up against my side.”

Lexa pauses and when she doesn’t hear any response she continues because she knows Anya will wait for the whole story, well, at least until she hears what she wants to hear.

“Up until Clarke got sick it was… really nice” Lexa breathes out sharply trying to hold the tears at bay that are threatening to spill. “They make me feel wanted as more than just a friend, but it can’t be like that. They’re together and they’re wonderful together.” She feels the first tear stream down her cheek but she holds her voice steady. “I don’t see how I fit in with them. I can’t let this continue because I can’t be with them. It’s going to hurt us all when I mess up and take things too far because sometimes it feels like there might be more.”

Anya stays silent for a moment and Lexa holds back the flood of tears because for the first time since Costia left she really wants to move on with someone and it will never happen. It already hurts.

“Lexa?” Anya’s question is soft.

She hums into the phone, only half listening.

“Why can’t it be what you want it to be?”

Because love doesn’t start with nearly ruining a relationship. Love doesn’t start with breaking someone’s heart. How can you fall in love with someone new when you still love the person who left you?

“What if she comes back? What do I do?” Lexa knows she doesn’t have to tell Anya who she’s talking about. It’s always Costia.

She takes a moment to respond and Lexa can nearly see the look Anya has on her face, a sad sigh of resignation. “Nothing. You don’t do anything, Lexa. I know she was your first love, but she isn’t your last.”

“Usually you tell me she won’t be my last.”

“Things change.”

## _______________________________________

 

Octavia nudges Clarke as she stands up to clear the dinner plates. Ever since the night they got drunk at Lexa’s they’ve known that they want to go forward with the half thought out plan they came up with two months ago on a Tuesday morning, to seduce Lexa Woods. Befriend her, kiss her, and then you get her, right?

That’s how it works, isn’t it?

Lexa has become a permanent fixture in their lives. Once a week drinks become dinner, become cuddling. This isn’t the first night they had eaten in, curling up on the oversized couch in Clarke and Octavia’s undersized living room, it isn’t even the first night Lexa had leaned against either of them as they debated what to watch on Netflix. Last week she fell asleep on Octavia’s shoulder and they had discussed how best to tuck her in on the couch without waking her up.

Of course she had woken up as Octavia was trying to lay her down, and Octavia had nearly melted at the softness of Lexa half asleep smiling up at her.

Lexa has said nothing about their incremental advances in their relationship. It’s more than just cuddling on the couch and home cooked dinners, coffee breaks in the early afternoon and crowding around a table meant for two at the back of the cafe or the bar down the street. Lexa has opened up to them, sometimes infuriating herself to the point where she shuts down with her openness, but they’re all in this together. Clarke doesn’t feel quite as lost, and while it will take time, more days seem good than not.

So when Lexa sat back down on the couch close enough for her leg to brush against Clarke’s she hadn’t thought much of it, except every time Octavia nudged her, all she could think about was drunkenly laying on top of Lexa and nearly kissing her. There’s a line of heat from her knee to her hip where Lexa is pressed against her and it’s distracting. It’s only distracting because she’s thinking about kissing Lexa. Nearly every other time they’ve been this close it hasn’t been about this.

This time it is.

Their relationship changed that drunken night on Lexa’s couch and they haven’t acknowledged it. Clarke hopes this isn’t one sided.

Chewing on her lip Clarke and glances at Lexa who is flicking through the Netflix menu intently. She leans her head against Lexa’s shoulder to get her attention; Lexa hums and nudges her. Lexa smells like the earth after it rains and Clarke wants to bury her face against her neck and breath in the scent, she settles for tracing her fingers along the inside of Lexa’s elbow. There’s no point left in subtlety.

She wants this. She wants Lexa, and she really doesn’t know how they got here, but her fingers run down to the inside of Lexa’s wrist and she feels the hitch in Lexa’s breath.

This is a terrible idea; Clarke isn’t sure she cares, being driven by the ache in her heart. Maybe she should be trying to talk to Lexa first instead of just trying to kiss her. Octavia is much better at following her impulses and having them work out and this is like a driving force propelling Clarke forward until she crashes against Lexa’s lips and waits to see if everything breaks.

She sits up just a little so she can study Lexa’s profile, the soft full pout of her lips, the strength of her jawline, the perfect line of her elegant neck.

“What is it?” Lexa turns to Clarke to find her so incredibly close and looking at her like she had the other night, like they might be more than friends, like she wants more. Lexa draws in a slow breath trying to steady her suddenly frantic pulse as her eyes flick to the kitchen where Octavia is washing dishes. This time there is no excuse, nothing she can blame the attraction on. There’s no alcohol in her system breaking down her defenses. She knows she should move, turn away, anything to keep from falling into the magnetic pull between them. She doesn’t.

Her eyes flick down to Clarke’s lips and she sees the tip of Clarke’s pink tongue dart out to wet them. She leans imperceptibly forward and is almost certain time has stood still. Clarke’s eyes are so incredibly blue and she can’t look away, not when in them she sees longing and want and kindness like she hasn’t seen in more years than she wants to count directed at her.

“Lexa,” Clarke whispers her name, brushing her fingertips across her cheek and Lexa can’t breath any more.

Clarke’s lips are soft. She shouldn’t be kissing Clarke; she doesn’t want to stop kissing Clarke.

Clarke pulls back for just a moment, her nose brushing against Lexa’s as she moves in for another kiss. Lexa presses a hand to Clarke’s chest. They can’t do this, they can’t be doing this, not when Octavia could turn around any second, not when Clarke is still with Octavia.

Her heart feels like it’s breaking in a thousand pieces and not just for the fact that she has to walk away now, but knowing that she’s caused so much pain. She stands, stumbling and is nearly to the door before she registers Clarke calling her name. Octavia makes it to her first though.

Octavia doesn’t quite stop her, instead her hands hover out, pleading, but not quite touching her, not quite holding her back but Lexa finds she can’t bring herself to push past her and out the door. She waits for Octavia’s anger, harsh and sharp, to descend on her. She waits for the hurt and the betrayal. With eyes downcast her heart falls farther with each moment of silence.

She should just leave, but part of her wants to feel the anger and the pain. She deserves that much for doing the one thing she promised she would never do.

“Lexa, please don’t go.” Octavia steps in front of Lexa, her voice quiet but firm. Octavia takes in the hunch of her shoulders and the refusal to meet her gaze and her body aches to fold Lexa up in a hug.

“I kissed Clarke, I’m sorry Octavia, I-”

“I know.” Octavia reaches out and tilts Lexa’s face up to look at her. She bites her lip, because all she wants to do is smile at this unnecessary reaction. This is what they’ve been working towards, if only Lexa doesn’t run. “It’s okay.”

“How can it be okay?” Lexa looks between Octavia and Clarke, her eyes wild, talking in their clasped hands.

The words tumble out quickly on top of one another.

“We like you.”

“Both of us.”

“We probably should have told you that sooner, before I kissed you.” Clarke offers her a wry smile and clarity starts to descend upon Lexa. Except even though now she knows this is happening she isn’t any less confused. It doesn’t help that this is what she had thought about late at night when she couldn’t sleep, wishing for a way to find happiness again and thinking, maybe, that it’s too late and she’s missed her chance.

“Lexa, please, come sit down.” Clarke tugs on Lexa’s hand and starts walking back to the couch.

Octavia gives her other hand a squeeze and for half a second Lexa thinks she might lean in and kiss her too. She breathes in through her nose and lets it out slowly.

“I’ll go get drinks.” Octavia lets go of Lexa’s hand.

Octavia and Clarke move around each other like they don’t need words, like they understand each other on a level where the slightest tilt of their head can express a hundred thoughts. Lexa feels it grip at her heart. She misses that. She misses how it felt when she would meet Costia’s eyes across the room and they didn’t have to say anything to say everything. This feeling of longing eating at her is why she’s kept everyone at arm’s length.

This feeling will devour her.

Lexa sinks back into the couch and Clarke sits down next to her, just enough space between them that she can’t feel her body heat but it would only take the tiniest shift on either of their parts to change that.

Clarke leans in, but sits back up before she starts to speak; Lexa looks like a panicked wild thing right now, ready to bolt at any moment and she’s trying to be careful now that everything is so disastrously out in the open. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“You like me, how?” Lexa sits up straight trying to regain her composure.

Octavia hands each of them a small glass of wine, something for their hands to fiddle with, something to take the edge off the tension in the room that’s making it hard to breathe. She sits down next to Clarke, pressed tight against her side. If they could just be kissing it would all be easier, maybe, but she promised Clarke that she could take the lead and her girlfriend’s hand on her thigh is nothing if not a reminder to sit still.

“We want you to be with us.” Clarke’s voice is steady. “If you want to be.”

“And not in just a _please come have sex with us because you’re incredibly attractive_ sort of way,” Octavia tilts her head and smiles at Lexa trying to lighten the stifling tension.

“Octavia,” Clarke hisses as her elbow connects with her girlfriend’s ribs. “We want to be together with you like we’re together.” She can’t seem to stop talking because Lexa isn’t saying anything, she’s just staring at them. “We want you to be our girlfriend, an equal part of this relationship. Lexa, I’m sorry if I upset you. When I kissed you I wasn’t thinking. I should have-”

“Stop.” Lexa takes a sip of the wine, shaking. “Stop talking.” She stands, pacing around the small living room, trying not to look over at the women sat together on the couch, expectantly waiting for her to say something, to agree or reject their proposal, because that’s what this is. An offer to be in a relationship with the both of them, to indulge in the blatant desire that there be more between them than just friendship. She loses count of how many times she circles the small space but her wine glass is empty when she finally speaks again.

“You, both of you, want to be in a relationship, with me?” Lexa curses herself at her inarticulate words. Her livelihood relies on her articulate nature, to be clear, concise, and sure. She is none of these things in this moment, her head trying to catch up with her heart and the only reason she hasn’t run out the door is because she can’t quite bring herself to leave or give them a resounding no because there’s part of her that wants to try.

It’s ridiculous. Some days it’s bad enough being known as the lesbian lawyer, but being known for this could ruin her. She’s tired of coming home to an empty house, even if she vehemently argues with Anya about it being easier. She isn’t ready to give up dinner and movie nights, coffee shops in the afternoon. They could never be out, but maybe they could be happy.

Octavia moves to her side first, taking one of her hands and intertwining their fingers. Lexa sighs, and she relaxes just a little bit even as her heart speeds up.

“We do,” Octavia whispers. “We want you. We need you.”

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

“How does this even work?”

“However we want it to.” Clarke takes Lexa’s other hand and smiles at her.

Warmth blossoms in her chest, she knows worry will come later, because the chances of this working are so very small. Maybe it will though. Maybe they’ll be worth the risk.

## _______________________________________

 

One week has passed since Clarke kissed Lexa. One week of taking things slow and trying not to run scared. They’re all operating on new relationship jitters and with three of them, three sets of nerves, three sets of worries, three sets of baggage, slow is good. Meeting family is not exactly taking it slow, but currently Anya is the only other person that knows about them, so it seems safe. Whatever that means.

It’s just coffee. Everyone has to run back to work before too long so it’s not like they can have a prolonged awkward interaction. Still in the five minutes they’ve been seated around the table it’s clear that any friendship with the older Woods sister is going to take time. A barista calls out their order, interrupting the small talk chatter around the table.

“I’ll go grab our drinks,” Clarke says.

“I’ll help.” Anya stands up immediately after Clarke before anyone else can offer.

Clarke raises an eyebrow quizzically at Lexa behind Anya’s back, all Lexa does is shrug in ignorance. Great. Clarke is certain that Anya is about to corner her because she knows about the three of them and she’s definitely giving off the protective older sister vibe. It doesn’t help that Anya’s outfit is probably worth more than Clarke’s wardrobe. There’s always something intimidating about a well dressed woman.

It isn’t until Clarke is reaching for the first coffee that Anya breaks the silence between them.

“Don’t let her run off,” Anya’s voice is quiet but clear, even in the noise of the cafe.

“What?” That was not what Clarke expected at all.

Anya turns to Clarke, and for a second the immovable mask she wears breaks and Clarke realizes how much like Anya, Lexa is, and where she learned to be strong. “She cares about you and Octavia even if she- she cares, okay?”

Clarke nods.

They divvy up the coffees and the plates as the barista informs them there’s still one waiting. Clarke turns to walk back to the table, hands full, concentrating on not spilling hot coffee on herself.

“Also, don’t break her heart.”

Clarke turns slowly, anything else would result in a scalded hand, so her retort doesn’t quite have the affect she wants. “Or what, you’ll sneak into my closet and ruin my wardrobe?”

“Well, honestly it could do with an overhaul, I’d be doing you a favor.” Anya gives Clarke a once over and shrugs. “Though, if you’re going to be dating my sister and hosting events at Gallery 2149 I suppose I could do that for you.” She gives Clarke a look as if to say it isn’t her call but her opinion is clearly in favor of it. “If you wanted. Octavia too.”

Clarke hums a non committal answer and makes a hasty retreat back to the table, not entirely certain if that was a positive interaction or not. She didn’t think her clothes were that bad but Anya is a fashion mogul, and, well, if anyone was going to have an opinion like that it would be her. No wonder Lexa always looks like she stepped out of a magazine.

“Clarke?” Lexa brushes her thumb along the side of Clarke’s thigh under the table.

“I think your sister just threatened me, insulted me, and then offered to take me shopping.”

“Sounds about right.” Lexa shrugs and turns to her coffee, completely unconcerned.

Octavia hides a fit of laughter in a cough.

Clarke slumps down in her seat.

“You might want to sit up before Anya gets back.”

“Why?”

“That shirt is going to wrinkle,” Lexa presses her lips together to keep from laughing at the look on Clarke’s face which is half incredulous and half terrified.

Octavia bursts out laughing.

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke glances down at her sketchpad, her hand shaking, and she can’t bring herself to place the pencil on the page afraid of what she will draw. She’s gone cold from sitting still, and she aches with it, but she can’t bring herself to move, heavy with pain and fear as she is. If anything this past week should have eased the racing panic in her mind, but that isn’t how it works; she’s worried now more than ever that Octavia will leave her for Lexa, even if she knows, deep down, that isn’t true. It’s a constant battle with her head to remind herself that everything is okay and that voice of dissent in her head isn’t telling her the truth.

She doesn’t hear the door open, or notice Lexa’s presence until Lexa murmurs her name in a soft question.

“Are you alright?” Lexa knows the answer even before she asks the question, but what she doesn’t know is why Clarke looks like she’s about to fall apart. Last time they talked everything appeared to be okay, but she knows pain has been eating at Clarke longer than she’s known her, and pain like that doesn’t just go away.

Lexa takes a hesitating step closer, wishing Octavia were here, and not still at work. Octavia knows Clarke’s moods better. She would know how to read Clarke’s furrowed brow and glassy eyes. Lexa swallows and takes another step closer, waiting for Clarke to indicate what she should do. As good as she is at reading people, she isn’t a mind reader.

“What are we doing, Lexa?” The words are raw and ragged as they fall from Clarke’s lips like poison.

Lexa flinches slightly, taking a step back. She waits for explanation even though she could guess at the reason. She’s been expecting this since the day she met Clarke.

Clarke stands, throwing her artwork to the couch and stalking halfway across the living room, as far away from Lexa as she can get without actually leaving the space. The room seems to spin, the air heavy and hot. Suddenly the apartment makes her feel claustrophobic. She throws open a window that sticks and shudders with the winter moisture and the cold December air floods in, ice biting Clarke’s skin. She welcomes the sharp relief from the nauseating closeness of the four walls of her living room, and Lexa’s still, barely breathing form.

Lexa hasn’t moved, hasn’t said a word.

Clarke shoves off the window sill, whirling in anger, crossing back to Lexa before she knows what she is doing. “What made us think that this would work? Octavia and I have always been able to work through our problems by ourselves. Why do we- why did we- what did I do wrong?” The last few words spill out half angry half pleading.

Lexa doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, as Clarke spits the words at her, trying to articulate the pain in her chest. It infuriates Clarke and she pushes forward, getting in Lexa’s face, even though barefoot Lexa is taller and in heels even more so.

“Why you?” Clarke knows why, and she hates that she’s saying these things, but she hurts and she can’t seem to stop, even as she wants to.

Clarke presses her hands to Lexa’s shoulders, not quite shoving her, but testing the pressure, thinking about it. She wants to shove and scream and hit, see how much it will take to break Lexa’s stone exterior. Her nails dig into the exposed skin above Lexa’s collarbone and she doesn’t know if she’s holding on or pushing her away. Tears are spilling down her face, hot with anger and fear.

She looks up into Lexa’s green eyes, so carefully guarded and wishes Lexa would let her in for just a moment.

Lexa’s lips part as she searches for the right words, but she makes no sound. Clarke is wild in her pain and it’s alarming, she’s never seen her like this, so afraid, so angry. She takes it on though, knowing that without her, this particular pain would never have been. Clarke needs someone to blame and Lexa is willing to take that if it helps her. Tenderly she brings her hands up to cover Clarke’s holding them in place, even as she can feel Clarke’s fingernails press deep enough to leave marks that will be there come morning.

They stay there for a moment, Lexa remaining still and calm, even though her heart betrays her, Clarke’s anger wafts off her and her grip on Lexa’s shoulders grows more painful with each passing moment until it breaks.

Clarke sobs heavily and collapses against her, arms folding so she is pressed to Lexa’s chest. At first the hug is a gentle thing, unsure and tentative. Clarke leans into Lexa, a press of her body that keeps her upright, and Lexa gingerly places her arms around Clarke as if she isn’t sure how this works. It is a semblance of a hug, almost a comfort.

Each of their hugs has been something telling and important in the development of how they see each other, this one no less so. But Lexa isn’t sure if Clarke wants this or is merely breaking against the nearest surface, for Lexa was the nearest thing to catch her fall. When one of Clarke’s hands makes its way to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the small, fine hairs they relax into each other, tension seeping from their muscles, and Lexa tightens her grip, holding onto Clarke as much as she is holding her up.

Lexa can feel Clarke’s sobs in her very core, shaking them both, and she knows there are tears in her own eyes, as much as she fights them. Clarke is crashing against Lexa, quietly losing herself the longer she cries and Lexa wonders if this is the end.

If this is the end it will break her.

“I do care about you, Clarke, and I care about Octavia.” Lexa whispers against Clarke’s hair, fingers tangling in it, and she bites her lip and pushes back the tears threatening to fall. This isn’t about how she feels. It doesn’t matter, not in this moment, because Clarke needs her. “But if you need me to I’ll walk away.” Her hands slip forward so she’s cradling Clarke’s face in her hands and she leans back slightly so they’re eye to eye. The broken look on Clarke’s face, eyes red and swollen, shatters her heart but strengthens her resolve; Clarke and Octavia deserve every chance at happiness, with or without her. Lexa brushes hair back from Clarke’s forehead and swipes her thumb at the tears still running down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be the reason for this pain, but I know I am. Octavia is yours and she always will be. She loves you very much, and if I’m in the way of that, I need to leave.”

Lexa’s heart pounds wildly and she knows Clarke can feel it between them and hear it in her trembling voice. She prays this isn’t over, glancing to the ceiling to blink back tears, imagining the stars in their infinite wonder and wishing for guidance. None comes, but Clarke slips her arms underneath Lexa’s, wrapping them solidly around her middle, leaning her head once again against Lexa’s shoulder, still crying, but fighting the sobs the wrack her body.

Clarke tightens her grip and Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s shoulders, holding on as tightly as she can. This is the moment they fall together or fall apart. Neither lets go, pulling the other closer, holding on tighter as if they might chase away the pain with their fierceness of the hug.

“Don’t leave,” Clarke’s whisper is barely an audible sound between ragged breaths that tear her apart. “I need you,” and much later as they lie together on the couch Clarke curled against Lexa’s breast, fingertips trailing lightly over angry red halfmoon marks on Lexa’s shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

## _______________________________________

 

Sometimes everything ends up alright and in the end the heart is still heavy, worry still finds a way to worm its way in, and sadness hangs like a heavy burden on the back. It’s a quiet cold refrain at two in the afternoon when laughter surges all around, a labored breath before a smile. That isn’t to say that there aren’t moments of joy because everything is as it should be and there’s a delicious jubilance in the calmness that brings. There is, it just does little to disquiet the insidious doubt that’s grown silently strong on the turmoil of before.

Clarke’s shoulders sag slightly as she walks back to the couch with her mug of tea, curling up on the floor in front of the coffee table with her sketch pad. Rain hits against the windows a constant white noise underneath the music Lexa pulled up on their little bluetooth speaker. She curls around the sketch pad trying to narrow her focus down to the drawing in front of her, trying to ignore the feeling of fear that crawls up her spine whenever she sees Octavia and Lexa together.

“I swear he did!” Octavia laughs.

“No, I don’t believe it.” Lexa pushes at Octavia’s knees where they rest across her lap.

“He got up on the desk and started yelling at the entire precinct. Clarke, you were there that day,” Octavia nudges Clarke with her foot.

“He did,” Clarke turns her head and offers up a smile hoping it’s convincing because right now she feels like she’s slowly crumbling. Things are okay. They are. At least, she keeps telling herself they are. “It was like a tiny dog barking at all the big dogs.”

Clarke pushes at the jealousy that threatens to tighten around her throat, constricting it, bringing tears to her eyes, hoping it will go away. After everything she’s still worried, because Octavia looks so happy with Lexa and the way she looks at her used to be the way she looked at Clarke and Clarke misses it. She misses feeling like someone’s world.

“I still can’t picture it.” Lexa laughs and it’s a low throaty thing.

The sketch is nothing like what she wants it to be and Clarke tears it out of her sketchbook, balling up the paper and tossing it at the waste bin. She starts again, forcing herself to keep her lines light, imploring that her hand stop shaking.

“Anyone else hungry?” Lexa shifts to stand up, “I think I’m going to start on dinner.”

“Starving,” Octavia bounces up and follows Lexa into the kitchen area.

Lexa busies herself getting things out of the fridge, not quite focused on what she’s making because all afternoon something has been off. It’s been almost two weeks and the sad way Clarke holds herself sometimes hasn’t gone away, if anything it’s been worse since she broke down in Lexa’s arms the other day. She’s watched her shut down even as she sees her try to be open and excited. As much as she likes the direction things are going between the three of them Lexa is worried it will only be temporary if they don’t all work on it.

“Octavia,” Lexa whispers only to find herself caught between the kitchen counter and her girlfriend sporting a mischievous smile. Soft lips press against hers and she loses her train of thought for a moment. She isn’t used to being kissed so often or with no other intent than to kiss. Her hands find their way to Octavia’s forearms and she gently presses her back. She has something to discuss and Octavia’s kisses are distracting.

“What is it?” Octavia asks quietly.

“Clarke.” Lexa tilts her head toward their girlfriend with a worried look in her eyes. “She’s been sad for a while now. It’s more than that though. Last night she broke down in my arms.”

Lexa pulls aside her shirt to show Octavia the nail marks bruised into her skin, uncertain of what reaction the sight will bring. Octavia runs her fingertips across the line of marks, following her fingers with her lips. She brings her hands down to rest around Lexa’s waist, her fingers running along her spine as she pulls her close.

“I’m sorry, this happens sometimes with Clarke, she’ll be okay. She always is.”

Lexa purses her lips, she knows there are things about both these women that she doesn’t know, but she can’t dismiss the way Clarke’s smile doesn’t always reach her eyes when it should be, the way she throws herself into her work or avoids Octavia and Lexa sometimes, or the pain she bore for her the night before.

“I think it’s more than that. And I’m worried this won’t work out if she doesn’t start feeling better.” Lexa untangles herself from Octavia but stays close, her voice low. “She’s still worried, O.”

Octavia gives her a quizzical look.

“About losing you, to me.” The admission constricts something around her heart. This is everything she didn’t want to be, a problem between two people in love. “I know she likes me now, and that she likes all of us together, but I think she still feels like you’ve pulled away from her. She misses you.”

Octavia’s face falls into seriousness and she leans into Lexa. She glances over her own shoulder to where Clarke is. This is just the fallout of the downward spiral Clarke had when this all started, isn’t it? She realizes that was two months ago, that Clarke breaking down and nearly leaving was a month and a half ago, that usually she comes back to herself quicker than this. She’s been so busy, so focused on Lexa that she’s been taking so much of what Clarke says at face value, but Lexa is right. It’s there in the slope of Clarke’s shoulders, and the softness in her voice.

In the middle of the night she promised she would try harder and work on them and then she ran right into Lexa’s arms.

Octavia presses her face against Lexa’s shoulder, her voice tight, “I’m still fucking this up.” She feels Lexa’s arms wrap around her and pull her in close. “I promised her I’d change.” If Lexa hadn’t wanted to be with them, hadn’t stayed instead of running, she doesn’t know if she would have noticed. How many times has she been by Clarke’s side when things get bad? She just gets through each day, but what if the bad days start being normal days?

Pain wraps around her heart and she doesn’t know what to do.

Lexa nudges her until Octavia looks at her, “You know how to take care of her. You’ve been doing it for years. I’ll work on dinner, you go talk with our girl.”

The words _our girl_ wrap around Octavia’s heart and squeeze. She wants to fall into those words and that feeling. It’s like coming home.

Octavia stands on the dividing line of the living room and kitchen watching Clarke sketch, erase, re-sketch and repeat before slowly laying her head down on the coffee table. She curses herself for being blinded by the excitement of pursuing Lexa, of getting everything she asked for. None of it will matter if she loses Clarke.

She moves to sit beside Clarke, nudging her hello, Clarke turns her head but doesn’t lift it.

“Hey.”

Octavia kisses her arm, then her elbow, moving to her shoulder then her neck and her cheek which earns her a small smile and giggle. She nudges her nose against Clarke’s cheek and lays her head down on the table so they’re face to face. The smile on Clarke’s lips is just a twitch of muscle but it’s genuine and it eases the worry in Octavia’s chest a little.

“Can I see?” She tugs at the sketch book under Clarke’s head without actually trying to dislodge it. Clarke nods and sits up and Octavia takes the pad in front of her.

It’s a rough sketch of Octavia curled into Lexa’s side, she can just make out the edges of Clarke’s knees from where she would have been stradling Lexa that night they had all been too drunk, doing all the things friends shouldn’t be doing. They look soft and happy and like they mean the world to each other.

“You’re amazing, Clarke Griffin, and I love you.” Octavia surges forward, kissing Clarke and pushing her back onto the floor, gently laying her down as she lets her weight settle on top of her. She doesn’t know what to say, she never does, but maybe she can make up in actions what she lacks in words.

Clarke’s hands slide down Octavia’s sides, running along her back and settling into stillness as she tucks her fingertips under the waistband of Octavia’s shorts at the small of her back. There are kisses and there are _kisses_. This is the later, it’s words and feeling in motion, everything Octavia’s failed to say as her tongue swipes against Clarke’s bottom lip as she pulls it between her teeth. She pours her heart into it and hope it’s enough for a start. Enough to let Clarke know she still cares.

Clarke breaks the kiss but holds Octavia tight to her, “I love you too, Octavia Blake.”

Octavia peppers Clarke’s face with kisses until Clarke is begging for mercy and laughing uncontrollably. She teases her, slowing down the assault, and slipping her hands under Clarke’s shirt running her fingers along bare skin. Clarke squirms underneath her and that only makes her want to continue. It’s good to hear Clarke laugh like this, with abandon, shrieking with joy. Even if this is only one moment, it’s a good one. For a second she distracts Clarke with a real kiss as she starts to tickle Clarke in earnest, which is when Clarke retaliates.

It’s been a long time since they were like this, joyful, silly, themselves. Octavia makes a mental note to thank Lexa later because this is what they were missing. This is the feeling that gets them through the bad times. Hope, bubbling like happiness even when it hurts.

They end up sitting, Clarke in Octavia’s lap, facing each other, trading slow luxurious kisses with staring into each other’s eyes and giggling about it because they know they’re acting like two idiots in love but they’re in love with each other so it’s okay.

Clarke catches sight of Lexa walking towards them from the kitchen and smiles up at her. Clarke has a look on her face like she’s looking at something precious and maybe she is. Lexa bites her lip, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks. Clarke presses a kiss to Octavia’s cheek and mouths _thank you_ to Lexa over Octavia’s shoulder. Lexa lifts her shoulders in a gallic shrug but there’s a smile on her lips that betrays her innocent look.

Lexa settles in behind Octavia wrapping her arms around to hold both of them. Clarke feels Octavia shift to lean back and Clarke shifts further into their embrace and in that moment it all falls into place because this is right. There’s a balance between them and they’re each better for the others.

Lexa leans forward over Octavia’s shoulder, pressing a quick kiss behind her ear as she does before pressing a chaste kiss to Clarke’s lips.

Of all the nights Clarke lay wrapped up in Octavia’s arms Octavia never imagined a day where anything else would ever feel quite so much like home, but this is everything they had been and more. Different, balanced, maybe a bit more aware. This is the choice they made and she’s happy that they did because it doesn’t feel like her only choice anymore, the only way she can keep her girlfriend, it feels like the one she wants to make every day because she gets to keep both of her girlfriends.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always feel free to hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with any questions you have! What did you think of how things came together? Of Anya finally meeting Clarke and Octavia?


	7. Bonus Scene: Trust | 2 years 3 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've made it through _The Seduction of Lexa Woods_! After I had finished it I realized we needed a little something more in the development of the relationship between Octavia and Lexa. We didn't get to see as much of that as I wanted. And thus this chapter came into existence.
> 
> Thank you all for the outpouring of support over this story. All of your comments and feedback mean so much to me!

Octavia toes off her shoes and pauses inside the door to Lexa’s apartment. It’s strange, being here without her. Lexa had only given her and Clarke keys last week, a full month after they had given her a key to their place. Most nights they spent together they spent at Octavia and Clarke’s small apartment. They’re rarely in pairs, except Clarke and Octavia who have come as some sort of unit since the fifth grade. Rarely Clarke and Lexa, rarer still Lexa and Octavia.

At work they had to pretend nothing had changed. That they hadn’t seen each other naked, that they didn’t stare each other down across the table and think about pinning each other to the wall with a kiss.

Sitting in the courtroom Octavia had to remind herself not to stare at Lexa’s ass. Keep her legs crossed, trying to ignore the ache that would build as she watched Lexa pace back and forth delivering her examination of the witnesses. The way her heels clicked and echoed on the tile, her carefully tailored clothes accentuating her form. The way she dropped her voice and slowed down her speech as she delivered an argument. 

Lexa’s voice did things to Octavia, especially when Lexa was winning in court like she had today.

Padding into the kitchen she sets the Pho she picked up on the way over on the counter. Lexa’s apartment is quiet, the only sign of life are her bizarre little floating plants spinning slowly by the window. She fills a glass of water at the tap and hops up to sit on the counter for a moment while she drinks, swinging her feet.

Octavia is restless.

She’s horny is what she is. Normally she’d find Clarke a few minutes after getting home, a few kisses to sate the ache. But Clarke is working at Gallery 2149 tonight, more and more she’s pulling doubles between the museum and the gallery as she tries to find a way to transition jobs without losing income.

Octavia hops off the counter and leaves her glass by the sink. She starts walking around Lexa’s apartment taking in the few minimal decorations, playing with the tiny planet like plants, wondering how fast they can spin as she sets one moving. The sun is setting as Octavia lays down beneath the window, watching streaks of orange and pink stretch across the sky.

One hand rests on her stomach, fingers twitching toward the waistband of her pants. The idea of taking care of herself, alleviating the ache before Lexa gets back is tempting. Especially because Lexa was supposed to get back before she did. She was the one with the errand.

She has the button of her slacks undone and the zipper halfway down when she hears Lexa’s keys in the door.

Octavia doesn’t really process, she just moves.

As much fun as it would be to get herself off while Lexa walks in on her, it would be more fun to have the reason for the ache between her thighs under her hands. She’s up off the floor and pressing Lexa against the door only halting her forward momentum to whisper  _ hello _ against Lexa’s lips.

Lexa yields into the kiss and drops her bag to the ground. Octavia grins and wraps an arm around Lexa. “You were amazing today in court,” she whispers, as she lightly scratches a single fingernail down the side of Lexa’s neck. Her lips trail down the opposing side, “I couldn’t stop thinking about getting you home and out of your suit.”

Octavia looks up. Lexa’s lips are parted, her eyes dark, a mix of surprise and want lining her expression. 

The surprise only lasts a moment and a smirk flits across Lexa’s lips, “Is that so?”

Lexa pushes off the door and walks Octavia back into the kitchen, her hands falling to Octavia’s hips. Even as her steps are steady, Octavia can feel the slight trembling in her hands. Lexa pushes her against the wall in the hallway, the kiss that follows is bruising.

Roaming hands and eager bodies lead to them crashing between the walls until Octavia has Lexa’s blouse undone and her back against a wall. “I thought about dragging you into the closet during that recess, but I wanted more than fifteen minutes.” She kisses down Lexa’s neck and along the edge of her exposed collarbone. 

Lexa stills for a moment and her breath hitches, “What exactly did you have in mind?” Her hands stall, fingers wrapping around Octavia’s shirt and settling it back over her exposed shoulder. Her normal bravado is there but it’s hollow.

Octavia doesn’t miss the hesitation thrumming through Lexa. It feels like that first night they all kissed, Lexa trembling and afraid she would ruin what was between Clarke and Octavia. Except they’ve been together for months now, and that hesitation has faded. When the three of them are together they’ve found their rhythm.

This is just the two of them.

Octavia stands straighter, the distance of a breath between her and Lexa. She brushes the back of her hand across Lexa’s cheek.

“It’s never been just the two of us.” Octavia bites her lip and smiles, the thought of her strong, powerful girlfriend, worried after all this time that there could be something wrong.

Lexa shakes her head. She wants Octavia, winning in court is always exhilarating, and she wants to celebrate with her, but for every part of her that wants to tug Octavia flush against her again, there’s another that feels like she did all those months ago: she’s coming between a beautiful relationship. She’ll ruin them.

Octavia’s next kiss is softer, a gentle touch of lips, softly parted and undemanding. Lexa returns it caught between her wants and her fears.

“We’re together, as much as I’m with Clarke, or you are with both of us, you and Clarke are allowed your own relationship, you and I are allowed this,” Octavia slips her hands into Lexa’s open shirt and settles them on her bare sides. She leans forward and presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s sternum.

When she looks back up into Lexa’s eyes she sees a soft wonder there. Octavia slips her hand into Lexa’s and squeezes it gently, “Let me take you to bed.”

Lexa nods, words failing her, unnerved by how easily Octavia could read her hesitation. The way Octavia could turn her on with a few well placed touches, and open her up with words tumbling from her lips before she’s fully thought them through. The way Octavia is scares her because she knows that impulsive intuition will change her forever. No matter what happens between them she will never be the same having been caught up in Octavia’s path.

She lets her tug her toward bed.

“Without Clarke…” Lexa furrows her brow, her words almost too quiet to hear. The ache in her heart is only second to the ache between her legs as Octavia strips leaving a trail of clothes from the front door to the bedroom. “Will it be okay?”

Octavia lets go of Lexa’s hand as she turns to face her. She nods slowly a small smile on her lips. “We aren’t having an affair by being together without her,” she takes a small step forward and links her pinky with Lexa’s. This isn’t the first time she’s heard the hesitation in Lexa’s voice when it comes to her and Octavia being together. The fear that this will all come back and hurt Clarke. “We both care for her, as we do each other, yes?”

Lexa nods.

“Nothing I do is done if I know it would hurt her. Do you trust me?”

Lexa nods once more, a decisive dip of her chin, and takes a step towards Octavia.

Octavia catches Lexa up in her arms, tucking Lexa’s hair behind her ear as she turns them so Lexa’s back is toward the bed. “Lexa Woods, you are my girlfriend.” Her hands are on Lexa’s pants, unbuttoning them, unzipping them, sliding them down over her hips.

Lexa steps out of them on reflex, leaving pants and panties in a pile on the floor.

“And as girlfriends, if we want, we can fuck,” she tugs Lexa against her, and slides Lexa’s shirt off her shoulders. It falls to the ground. “We can do whatever you want. What do you want, Lexa?”

Lexa regards Octavia, the assured stance, the way she’s asserting what she wants but letting Lexa set the pace. Her heart aches with the comfort and feelings budding in it. The beginning tendrils of love thriving and pulsing. 

There have been times when Lexa has found herself alone with Clarke, naked and exploring each other like teenagers timid, but burning up with desire. This is the first time she has found herself alone with Octavia and the old fear in the back of her mind that she is skirting into dangerous territory, somehow coming between the relationship of her friends won’t leave her mind. Lexa trembles with the effort to push those fears from her mind. These moments are hers to live, whether she’s with Clarke or Octavia, or both of them. This is what they agreed to. This is the trust they have for one another

Lexa hooks an arm behind her back and unclasps her bra. It falls to the floor with the rest of their clothes.

“I want you,” Lexa says quietly a slight waver in her voice. She wants her in ways she doesn’t know if she can articulate, the words refusing to surface. It's been too long since she slept with the same person more than once, since she took someone to her bed and let them stay, these past few months feel like a dream. Clarke and Octavia have come to her time and time again softly breaking down her walls and asking if they can be the ones that change her mind, and somehow every time she’s allowed herself to say yes.

Octavia grins, cocking her head to the side. “Do you now? How much?”

Lexa’s hands slide around Octavia’s bare waist, she intends to pull her close but Octavia places a palm flat against Lexa’s sternum. 

“Tell me,” she whispers, the words little more than air pushing past her lips. Octavia leans closer ever so slightly, hope and desire in her eyes. She brushes her thumb softly over Lexa’s breast bone.

Lexa feels her cheeks flush. Between the soft way Octavia has slowed them down and the insistence on talking through what they’re about to do Lexa is uncomfortably aroused. The heat between her legs grows with each passing moment, damp and pooling. She wants Octavia’s hands on her, one slipping between her legs. Octavia on top of her, focused on her, mouth latched onto her skin.

None of the words she needs make it past the back of her tongue so she swallows them down.

She reaches for Octavia’s hand and guides it between her legs. Pressing her middle finger against Octavia’s she slips their fingers between her folds, dripping already with her arousal. “This much,” she whispers as she reaches up to cup Octavia’s cheek and draw her in for a kiss.

The kiss is a slow exploration, softer than the ones they shared as they crashed down the hallway, but no less intense. Lexa feels Octavia press against her shoulders, walking her backwards, urging her down onto the bed. She lets herself fall back onto the bed, bouncing softly as she lands. 

Octavia stands above her and the sight takes Lexa’s breath away. She’s stunning, lithe and toned, and delicate in a way such a powerful person rarely is. The cut of her jawline is sharp, but the bow of her mouth is soft. Her eyes fall to the almost still-pink scar underneath Octavia’s left collarbone and Lexa wishes silently that they never have to go through a scare like that again.

Lexa breathes out and curls her index finger, beckoning Octavia down.

She comes to the bed readily, straddling Lexa, hovering above her with one hand firmly planted next to either of her shoulders. Octavia raises one eyebrow and waits.

Lexa trembles under her gaze, knowing Octavia is waiting for her to articulate what she wants, what she needs.

Octavia traces a finger down Lexa’s neck, letting her hand come to rest in the valley between her breasts. “You’re so articulate at work, but I get you alone in bed and you can barely string two words together,” she smiles, pleased with herself. She’s watched seasoned attorneys wither when Lexa speaks and she can subdue her with a touch, tinge her cheeks pink, break through her walls with nothing more than a chaste kiss.

Turning her head to the side Lexa breaks away from Octavia’s gaze as she feel the blush creep across her neck and chest. Her mouth is dry and she tries to ignore the fluttering in her chest. She looks back to Octavia without moving her head, “I want you, Octavia Blake. I want you to kiss me, and touch me,” she turns her head, forcing herself to make eye contact. “I want–”

Octavia lowers herself onto Lexa, pulling her into her arms, and kissing her like Lexa is her air. Even incessantly drinking down Lexa’s kisses, Octavia is soft. Her touch is light, ghosting over Lexa’s skin. She’s gentle in her questioning exploration.  _ Can I touch you here? Do you want me to? Like this? _ Each verbalization makes Lexa blush and turns her on more.

Octavia gently turns Lexa onto her stomach, kissing across her side, fingertips tracing the outline of her ribs just pressing against her skin. She runs a finger down Lexa’s spine, tracing the tattoo there, black ink encasing a watercolor galaxy like a shooting star down the center of her back. 

She takes in the sight of her lover’s back, familiar to her but still foreign and new. Octavia brushes the pad of her thumb across Lexa’s tattoo before pressing her lips to it. Then higher again, the C7 vertebrae, the side of her neck. She slides one arm around Lexa’s waist. 

“How do you want me to fuck you?” Octavia’s teeth graze the shell of Lexa’s ear.

Lexa feels Octavia press closer to her, small pert breasts against her back, the smooth plane of her stomach, their hips curving together. Her breath hitches. It’s not that they haven’t been this close, pressed together, skin flushed and damp, before. Clarke has always been with them. It’s been more intense, less singularly focused.

Octavia smoothes her hand down Lexa’s arm, across her hip. She traces the curve of it, where Lexa’s sex is tucked between the apex of her crossed thighs. Soft touches she means to comfort Lexa with, calm her racing heart before she makes it beat wildly for other reasons entirely. Drawing her fingertips back she watches her hand as it traverses Lexa’s bare side, feeling the warmth of her girlfriend beneath the palm of her hand. She wants to be touching her, fucking her, but Octavia wants to know what Lexa wants. How are they when it’s just the two of them together? Without Clarke their dynamic has changed.

“Lexa?” Octavia whispers her teeth closing delicately around the skin of Lexa’s shoulder as she speaks. She waits for an answer.

Lexa whimpers, her mind racing. Her thoughts barely coherent as she pushes through the haze of her arousal. Words come to her sluggishly, and the ones that spring to mind stick in her throat. She wants and wants and wants. Her skin on fire with each of Octavia’s gentle touches. Too gentle, drawing this out for longer than she anticipated. She feels Octavia’s lips press against the back of her shoulder and all Lexa can think is that she wants to be riding high, she wants Octavia pressed against her, thrusting into her as she comes.

And still the words tremble on the back of her tongue.

She squirms against Octavia and the word  _ please _ escapes her lips in a gasp.

“Please what?” Octavia kisses along Lexa’s shoulder, brushing aside her hair to kiss behind her ear.

Lexa’s voice is strained, “I want your fingers buried inside me.”

Her next thought is cut short as Octavia presses Lexa’s top leg forward, her knee hits the bed, steadying her on her side, and exposing her sex. Octavia licks her fingers and returns her hand to between Lexa’s legs, slowly pressing two fingers into her without warning. Lexa lets out a soft cry and presses against Octavia’s fingers, trying to arch her back and press against her all at once. 

She rolls her hips, rubbing against Octavia, pleading as Octavia responds with a slow caress.

“Harder,” Lexa whispers.

Octavia picks up the pace instantly, fingers hitting deeper, rubbing against the spot she already knows will send Lexa over that edge if she just keeps at it. She slides her free arm underneath Lexa, hand splayed flat across Lexa’s stomach as she holds her closer, holds her tight. Her breath is hot against Lexa’s ear.

Lexa’s eyes flutter shut, she can’t keep them open and focus on the building tension between her legs. Her skin flushes with heat, a thin sheen of sweat breaking out across her skin. Breath coming in soft puffs, soft moans in the back of her throat, Lexa tenses and trembles under Octavia’s touch. The building, twining, tension, making the movement of her hips erratic.

The world is nothing, but heat and tension, and  _ almost _ , until it’s a burst of stars and back bowing pleasure, emotions wrapping around her tender heart, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

Octavia whispers in her ear, soft sweet words, as Lexa tenses once more and shudders, muscles tightening around Octavia’s fingers. Lexa gasps, crying out in pleasure, whimpering as Octavia stills inside her, gently bringing her back down. Tenderly slipping out from inside her, wrapping around her and holding her close as Lexa tries to hold herself together, relief and something like love sweeping over her.

The reality of coming undone by Octavia’s hand hits her. This is real. She isn’t just someone they bring to bed, or cling to when the world makes them ache.

Lexa turns in Octavia’s arms, tangling their legs together, pulling Octavia flush against her. The kiss is tender but deep and she hopes it conveys the feeling in her heart. She isn’t sure she has the words for what it means yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with your feels.
> 
> And if you need more, and haven't checked the fic tag recently. [Give it a glance](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic).
> 
> Next week we'll be getting back to the present day and seeing how the girls are getting along with the art show.


	8. Edge of Empty | Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're jumping back into the present day. The girls are getting ready for Clarke's big art show now that everything has been set up.
> 
> Thank you all for the endless support! It's much appreciated.
> 
> See the end notes for translations of Raven's Portuguese.

Raven slips her phone from her pocket, checking the notifications. She’s barely looked at her phone all afternoon they’ve been so busy. Twenty-five emails, a plethora of likes on instagram, some mentions on twitter, and six un-answered texts from Monty. Today is not that day that she wants to deal with a work emergency. Raven presses her hand against the small of her back, digging into the muscles there, she’s sore from standing all day, helping move paintings, her leg aches and she groans knowing the night isn’t even beginning to come to a close.

She flips open the messages app. One potential disaster at a time.

_Monty 2:34pm: Tall blond pretty boy is looking for you_

_Monty 2:34pm: named Wick?_

_Monty 2:45pm: shit, is this the ex?_

_Monty 2:46pm: the girls are way better_

_Monty 2:47pm: he kept asking when you’d be around_

_Monty 2:47pm: I told him you weren’t in the lab on the weekends, even though you do check in sometimes, but seems like he’s going to keep coming around. Do you need me to tell campus police or anything?_

“ _Tá me zoando…_ ” Raven mutters slipping into Portuguese. She had grown up speaking it with her mother, grandmother… and Finn’s family. Sometimes it comes easier to her than English when her heart turns into a frantic wild thing beating against her rib cage.

She rubs her thumb against her temple, Wick was one part of her life she hoped she’d never have to revisit. They didn’t need this today, or ever. Her heart flutters in a worried panic. He’d followed her for months after they broke up but after all this time she thought maybe he had given up and moved on. That was two years ago. Why was he coming back now, and today of all days? Now that she’s finally happy.

Now she has everything she never had with Wick. She’s not even certain she had anything close to this with Finn. Leaning over she stretches her low back for a moment as she scratches at the top of her prosthetic. For the first time her life is starting to feel like it’s working out the way she wants it to.

She’s loved. It’s complicated and messy and troublesome at times… but she wouldn’t give it up for anything. Not when she has three sets of arms to fall into unconditionally, three hearts that ache for her. Not when they have friends and family that support them. Not when she’s finally found her way back to her own family as she builds a new one.

Octavia is half hidden in the fridge, Lexa leans against the counter sipping on a glass of water as they discuss dinner. Raven can just make out their conversation and she sighs. If only she could just tell Wick she’s taken and there’s no way she’s letting them go. Not one of them. Then maybe he would just turn around and leave. She knows her wish will likely go unanswered.

Life isn’t what she expected it to be; it’s better. Raven leans back as Clarke wraps her arms around her, taking her weight and letting her relax a moment even though she’s still standing. She glances over at the couch and contemplates how much energy it’s going to take to get from here to there.

“You okay?” Clarke whispers against her ear.

“I’m sore.” Raven leans her head back on Clarke’s shoulder. She feels the press of Clarke’s lips against her temple and she just wants to melt into the feeling, forget the messages she just read, forget anything that isn’t the feeling of being home and being safe and being loved. They’re on a schedule though, and there’s no time for indulgences. “So are you going to tell us what Kane said that upset you?”

Clarke nips at Raven’s shoulder, “I asked first.”

“We have leftover fajitas, and I think there’s a fresh avocado.” Octavia calls from the kitchen, her head still in the refrigerator. Her stomach has been growling for the better part of the afternoon and all she wants is real food before they get to the show tonight. Even if she and Raven can’t be there as her girlfriends they can still be there for her. It would be easier if they could just be out, not like out and in everyone’s faces, but she just wants to be able to hold their hands, offer up strength and protection. It’s hard to do that when you have to sit on the sideline.

“That works,” Raven calls back. She leans forward, extracting herself from Clarke’s arms, they can both play the _I don’t want to talk about it_ game. As long as it isn’t something that they don’t need to talk about at some point. Raven glances over her shoulder at Clarke, who all day, has been excited, if nervous, but since she stepped out of Kane’s office she’s been reserved.

“How many tortillas do you all want?” Lexa asks as Raven steps into the kitchen.

“Two.”

“Three,” Octavia replies.

“None, I’m good.”

“Clarke, you have to eat.”

“I will, I’m just-”

Raven turns around and stops Clarke mid-sentence with a kiss.

“-stressed,” she mumbles against Raven’s lips. Eating is the last thing on her mind right now, and she’s not even remotely hungry. It’s a vague thought in the back of her mind that she should eat because she’s been working all day and the actual show is in three hours.

“You’re eating.”

Lexa looks over her shoulder from her place next to Octavia at the stove, “The show is all ready to go, we just have to get you back there.” She catches Clarke’s eye and dips her head, a small gesture of reassurance.

Clarke smiles, moving around the others to set the table, “I know, it’s not- nevermind.”

“What happened with Kane?” Raven pushes.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” Octavia turns away from the stove slowly, hopping up onto the counter as she continues to stir the reheating fajitas.

Lexa nearly drops the fork she’s flipping tortillas with, “We’ve been careful.”

“More than careful enough,” Raven rolls her eyes. With how many people know she can’t believe they’re still trying to pretend they are anything other than what they are. It’s not like she doesn’t understand why they do, she’d just rather not. They aren’t ashamed of who they are but sometimes it feels like having to hide means they are.

“He said the gallery was a safe space,” Clarke slumps down into a chair at the table. She should be happier that it wasn’t a rejection, that he’s supporting them, but she can’t help but feel like she’s failed Lexa who needs them to stay closeted the most.

“What if we all went together tonight?”

“We’ve been over this Octavia, we can’t.” Lexa lets out an exasperated huff of air and squares her shoulders, readying herself for the argument that always comes. It isn’t that she doesn’t want to, she just isn’t willing to risk her career.

“Why-”

“It’s too risky. Lexa’s boss is going to be there tonight,” Clarke’s voice is gentle.

“How did Kane find out?” Raven slides into the chair next to Clarke.

Clarke pauses. She’s been trying not to think about the fact that Kane found out about their relationship over drinks with her mother. It’s been more than ten years since her dad was killed, but she feels like there’s something potentially disastrous in her mother dating her boss, “Mom.”

“Why would Abby tell Ka- _oh_.” Octavia slips off the counter and leans against it, the look on her face half surprised, half impressed. “Go, Abby.”

## _______________________________________

 

Octavia slips out onto the back porch, her bare feet sliding across the smooth wood. The July air wraps around her skin, warmth pressing in on her, not unpleasantly hot, but enough that she feels just how alive everything around her is. The tension at dinner had been palpable, her and Raven wanting to stop worrying _if_ people know, and Clarke and Lexa arguing that no matter what they want it doesn’t change what they _should_ do.

Octavia can’t make sense of it anymore, not being honest about her love has only ever led to problems. It had broken up what was left of her blood family and nearly cost her the women she loved. She’d rather have a month or a few of rockiness to work through than the pain and anguish of the lie.

She falls into the freestanding hammock underneath the lone tree in their backyard, half in the sun, half out of it, and tosses an arm across her eyes before hitting call on her cell phone.

It feels like the four of them are circling around this, breaking themselves out of fear. Octavia has never been one to stand aside or hide when someone or something scares her. She faces the things that scare her head on. She rubs her shoulder the memory of an ache haunting her. Facing her fears head on hasn’t always worked out for the best, but it’s always worked out in the end.  

“I hear you’re dating Kane now,” she drawls before Abby has a chance to say hello.

“Hello, Octavia,” her words are short but Octavia can hear the amusement in Abby’s voice. Talking with Abby is like what she wishes calling her own mother was like. And maybe in some ways, after all these years, Abby is her mother, even if not officially, and right now she needs a mother’s advice.

“Clarke’s freaking out.”

“About Kane or about tonight?”

“About you telling him about us.”

The line goes silent for a moment and Octavia knows Abby is turning over the words in her head, trying to sort out how to respond. She waits, twirling a dark lock of hair around her finger, rocking herself gently with one foot on the ground. It shouldn’t matter.

It shouldn’t matter that Kane knows, that anyone knows. The four of them fit together like puzzle pieces, complexly interlocking in ways they never thought they would at first to create something wonderful and unexpected. Without even one of them they aren’t whole, they fit, but there’s something missing. All she wants is to be able to be with all of them without reservations, because there are bigger problems in the world than who someone takes to bed.

She loves Clarke, and Lexa, and Raven, and she hates that she has to hold back. She isn’t good at it, and part of her is afraid that in hiding they’ll lose sight of what makes the four of them great together.

“...Earth to Octavia,” Abby’s voice cuts through her thoughts.

“Shit, sorry, Abby.” Octavia rubs her hand down her face, trying to force her thoughts into words, when all she wants is to scream in frustration. “I just hate that it matters.”

“Clarke understands, you all understand, that Kane supports you, that I’m still behind you all, whatever you decide, right?”

“We do. I don’t want things to be like this anymore though. This is it. This is the night Clarke’s been working towards since she was the weird kid covered in paint all the time, that took art class way too seriously. I’ve been there for every art show, every gallery, every award, but this, this is the big one. And-,” Octavia’s voice cracks and she breathes out slowly trying to hold in the breaking trembling tide of emotions rolling through her chest. When she continues her voice is a soft whisper trying not to disturb her heart, “And I can’t hold her hand tonight.”

“You want to be the one by her side tonight.”

Tears prick at her eyes. “I want all of us to be,” Octavia sits up, nearly falling out of the hammock. “Raven’s right, who cares what anyone else thinks.”

“As long as the four of you are happy.”

Octavia softens at Abby’s words. She’s never spoken to her about this, she tries not to come to Abby with problems that would make her choose a side between Clarke and her. It’s always frightened her that she might become a problem between them, having always felt like such a problem to her own mother. The Griffins had been her family since the little blonde weirdo who was always covered in some kind of drawing supply had defended Octavia on the playground and gotten them both thrown in detention.

Things were easier back then. You could punch your problems in the face.

“What’s stopping the four of you from just quietly being yourselves tonight? You don’t have to make any declarations, or defend your decision, just don’t split up, don’t divide yourselves to make everyone else comfortable.”

Octavia doesn’t have an answer, but the tears rolling down her cheeks tell her everything she needs to know. She’s done hiding to make other people comfortable.

## _______________________________________

 

Lexa climbs the stairs slowly giving Raven space to breath before she walks into their room and back into the fight. Even when they’re on the same side they find ways to challenge each other, but when it comes to being public they’re at an impasse, cleanly divided into sides, and no one is willing to give in. There is no compromising in this. They’ve compromised themselves into a dark twisted complicated corner and it’s exhausting.

She refuses to risk her career.

She refuses to lose the loves of her life.

Last time she picked love over work she lost a year of her life, sitting in limbo, waiting for another chance to finish up school. She spent another four years trying not to feel anything for anyone. It broke her. This is the first time she feels like life might come together. She’s finally working the kinds of cases she went to law school to oversee. She can finally try to make a difference to all the kids living in purgatory between parents, between homes.

She won’t risk that. Not when she can still come home.

Lexa leans against the doorframe at the end of the hallway that leads into the master bedroom. Raven is sprawled out on her back on their massive bed, her leg dangling over the side like she was too tired or too frustrated to crawl into bed. Both her hands are pressed against her face and there’s a trembling in her shoulders. Raven looks so much smaller than she actually is.

“Raven?” Lexa pushes off the doorframe and takes a few steps into the room. “I wanted-”

“Wick is back in town.” Raven pushes up to sitting, her eyes are rimmed red but her face is dry. “He’s been hanging out on campus all day, harassing Monty about me.”

Lexa kneels in front of Raven, not yet touching her, even as she wants to reach out and comfort her. She can feel Raven’s anger boiling just beneath the surface, thinly veiled hurt. Lexa looks up into Raven’s eyes, swimming with pain, “Do you need me to call one of the judges, I can get a restraining order pushed through.” She’s already reaching for her phone before Raven has a chance to reply.

“I just want to throw it all in his face,” Raven sets her jaw and glares down at Lexa because Lexa is the reason they try to keep quiet. “Show him how much I don’t need him, but even if he does find me, I _can’t_.”

The words sting more than a slap and Lexa holds Raven’s gaze. She swallows and waits.

Raven waits for the fight to start again because they’ve been having variations of this particular argument for months. It always come back to Lexa and her career. It’s not like it wouldn’t potentially be a risk for any of them, but they’re willing to face it head on, together.

“How long does it have to be like this? Until we stop being each other’s secrets? You keep saying _not yet_ . _A gente te ama..._ ” Raven takes in a shuddering breath and looks Lexa over. The soft pleading in her eyes against the hard cut of her jaw clenched tight, her hands curled in her lap, waiting patiently, even as every fiber in her body vibrates towards action. Lexa’s silence says more than any of it. The way she doesn’t respond, even though Raven knows she’s understood. It’s the way she takes Raven’s anger and accepts it. Raven wants to scream and have this out, but she can’t when she knows Lexa will drink down her pain like punishment.

Raven can’t help herself from pushing, “You’ve got the job, the dream, your boss likes you, which from what you’ve said, might be a small miracle because she doesn’t like anyone. You’re already working the cases you want, so where’s the line? When do we get to stop having to do mental gymnastics each time we step out that front door?”

Lexa lets her gaze drop for a moment as she builds back up the walls because they don’t have time tonight. They have to be back at Gallery 2149 in time for Clarke to relax and be ready for the opening. They don’t have time to change the plan or fight about it once again. “Once I’m certain.”

“About what? About us? _Você não pode ser mais egoísta?_ ” Raven regrets the words the moment they hit her tongue like a bitter acid. It’s only there for a moment but she sees pain wash across Lexa’s face, her eyes gloss, lips part and for a second Raven thinks she can hear the silent breaking of her heart. Just as quickly Lexa presses her lips together and inhales sharply, any sign of pain, gone.

Lexa stands, stepping back from Raven. She’s halfway to the master bathroom before she responds, pausing her steps, but not looking over her shoulder, not knowing if she could look at Raven, or any of them in that moment, and not break wide open, “You know how I feel.”

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke glances in the mirror and sets the makeup brush down on the bathroom counter as Octavia walks up behind her, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist. She leans her head back against Octavia’s, watching their reflection, side by side. It hasn’t been forever, but sometimes it feels like they’ve always been like this and she wonders if she’ll ever know Lexa or Raven quite this well, how all she has to do is feel one touch, take one glance, and she can know if something is wrong.

“You’ve been crying,” Clarke turns and leans against the counter, her hands falling to Octavia’s hips as she settles in. She pulls Octavia closer, feeling her skin still warm from the late afternoon sun as she searches for a hint of what might have caused her to be upset. It isn’t like Octavia to cry over nothing, which means this is something. She reaches up a hand, brushing her thumb along the underside of Octavia’s eye, catching a fresh tear.

Octavia leans forward, catching Clarke’s perfectly lipsticked lips up in a kiss that isn’t meant to be gentle or chaste. Her heart is aching and it feels like such a small thing to be upset over, but it’s more than just the fact that she can’t be the one to hold Clarke’s hand tonight. Ever since they were kids they dreamt and planned this night. The night Clarke knew she’d made a name for herself as an artist, because it was never a question of if, only when. She cups her hands around Clarke’s face as she pulls back. Clarke’s lipstick is smeared and she looks hopelessly confused.

“I just want to be there for you tonight.”

“You will be, we talked about this-”

“No,” Octavia’s hands slip to Clarke’s shoulders and she shakes her once gently as frustration bubbles over. There’s a scream itching at the back of her throat that she won’t let out. “I want to be there for you because you’re my girlfriend and I don’t care who knows, and I want to be able to hold Lexa and Raven’s hands while you give your speech and _we_ help you celebrate. I don’t want to have to live a lie whenever I walk out my front door.”

“This isn’t about what we want,” Clarke tugs Octavia towards her for another kiss but Octavia pulls back and Clarke lets her go. Her jaw trembles, “This is for _Lexa_ , so she doesn’t have to worry about her job.”

“She’s picking work over us. She’s stepping back, _again._ ”

Clarke slides out from between Octavia and the sink, catching sight of herself in the mirror; she scrubs at the lipstick smudge around her mouth, “That’s entirely unfair. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Isn’t it? She’s the one who keeps pushing for us to stay quiet about how we feel. It doesn’t matter to her that this hurts.” Octavia’s voice is barely above a harsh whisper, but it rings in Clarke’s ears like she’s screaming.

“What the hell, Octavia,” Clarke catches Octavia’s gaze in the mirror, hard and angry. “None of us want it to be like this, but if you haven’t noticed, sometimes the world sucks, and we don’t get to just be who we want to be because _we’re_ okay with who we are. We agreed, until all of us are ready, things stay like they are.” Clarke spins to face Octavia directly, stepping into her space, “ _You_ agreed to this.”

“You and Lexa agreed.” Their shoulders collide as Octavia pushes past Clarke, “Let me know when you’re done in here so I can get ready to take Raven tonight.”

Clarke only watches after Octavia for a moment before she lets out the breath she’s holding, her hands braced against the bathroom counter, fingers digging into the stone. Her head drops down and she breathes in, shaking and shuddering and she tries to choke back a sob.

## _______________________________________

 

Lexa hasn’t said a word since she walked into the master bathroom, and neither has Raven. There was exactly one exasperated exhalation and a soft _fwump_ as Raven threw herself back on the bed, and then, silence.

Lexa presses her palms flat against the expansive counter to keep them from trembling. Raven’s words struck deep, deeper than they were meant to. They had all been so delicate in their disagreement before, do we come out, or do we keep our relationship private. Lexa doesn’t want to scream her love from the rooftops, but maybe, standing at the top, looking out over everything, to hold her loves close and not worry. That would be the thing, to not be afraid.

_She can’t risk her career._

Lexa glances out at Raven, good leg planted firmly on the ground, her prosthetic propped against the bed as she massages her thigh, and her already fragile heart trembles.

_She can’t lose them._

She stretches back, trying to drain the tension pulling on her spine from between her shoulderblades. It only settles in tighter because she knows she is the reason that everyone is angry and hurt. Her own selfish fears from a love she lost long ago that she just can’t let go of are threatening her chance at happiness. She’s chosen to be with Clarke and Octavia and Raven, loving each one insurmountably in different ways, but she hasn’t let herself trust them with her future.

She slides to the cold tile floor, back pressed against the wall, blinking back tears as she watches Raven. Raven who doesn’t have to speak to break through Lexa’s walls. Raven who makes her tremble with the lightest of touches. Raven who makes her forget that she’s afraid.

Because, in the end of it all, she still has her career, carefully built up over the years. Ever since Costia walked out of her life it’s been her focus. And now she’s made it, a secure position at an esteemed law firm. She kept her personal life a secret so it didn’t hinder her advancement. All they know about her at work is that she’s ruthless and fearsome in court, cunning and highly tactical. But no one knows her because she’s kept the best part of herself locked away.

Lexa balls her hands into fists. _Her career doesn’t matter if she pushes them all away._

“Lexa?” Clarke steps into the master bathroom from the main hallway and Lexa glances up slowly, taking in the sight of her girlfriend standing above her before working her way to her feet. This is it. The moment of choice. She can feel it press on her, the weight of the enormity of her decision tonight, their future rides on it. Lexa’s jaw is clenched tight as she holds back tears. They study each other, measuring in the pain in each other’s eyes, and the weight of the hearts they’re responsible for.

None of them are alone in their pain, and they’re all responsible for this, but they have to choose to take care of each other and trust that everyone else will do the same. Lexa has to choose to trust.

Lexa breathes out, and she wants to step into Clarke’s arms, but she has to try to fix this first, hold it together with tape until she can make it up to them. “You can’t take me tonight,” Lexa pauses, trembling as pain flashes across Clarke’s face, “You can’t take _only_ me.”

“What do you mean?” Clarke leans against the wall, her gaze flicking from Lexa and then out into their bedroom where Raven has propped herself up on the bed to watch them. Raven shrugs. Not an hour ago Lexa had been steadfast that they keep their relationship a secret and as much as Clarke would love to be able to have her girlfriends by her side tonight she had stopped believing it was a possibility. She doesn’t want to let the warm sprig of hope blooming in her chest grow, but Lexa’s gaze is soft and earnest and there’s a tremulous edge to her words as they fill the space between them.

Lexa leans against the counter, half sitting, her hands falling to rest in her lap. She watches them intently, as she sits as still as possible, trying not to fidget and break her courage, “I mean that you should take all of us, if that’s alright with you.” Lexa looks up at Clarke with hope, the last of her walls no more than dust at her feet, and she prays their love is strong enough to keep her safe, “I’ve made us wait long enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations —  
> Tá me zoando… = You're kidding me  
> A gente te ama... = We love you  
> Você não pode ser mais egoísta? = (sarcastic) Can you be any more selfish?
> 
> \--------
> 
> as always i'd love to hear from you, either in the comments or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask). Alternately you can also check out the [OT4 fic tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) on my blog for more headcanons and mini-stories in this verse.


	9. This Bed Is Too Small and Maybe The Apartment Too part 1 | 1 year 11 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my lovely readers! thank you for all your kind words about my writing and your feedback and sharing your reactions to everyone's decisions last week. It was fascinating getting to see all the different feelings about what went down. This week we're jumping back into the past, learning more about how the girls got to where they are at the art show.

Nine months after Clarke first kissed Lexa and Lexa rarely returns home at night to her sparse apartment with a view of the city. She's found she prefers to be in the middle of it, crammed into a double bed with the women who have changed her life, given her hope again. They spend weekends at the coast or in the mountains, Octavia convincing them to get out and explore the world. Together it feels like they're unstoppable. 

Lexa takes quiet pride in their relationship even as she wonders when the day will come that they find the courage to tell their friends and family. Only Anya knows what they mean to each other. Most days that's fine… sometimes it's tricky, like when you're seated next to your girlfriend’s mother at dinner and she doesn't know you're a part of the family yet.

“It’s quite nice of you to extend the dinner invitation to me, Abby.” Lexa takes a sip of water and offers up a small smile now that they’re all seated around the dinner table.

“Well, considering the way these two go on about you I didn’t know if I’d see them if I didn’t.” Abby gives Lexa a wink and hands her the salad bowl. “It’s been just them for so long I was wondering if they even had any other friends anymore.”

Clarke gasps in mock horror, holding a hand to her chest. “We have friends. There’s Bellamy-”

“-Octavia’s brother.”

“-and Lincoln-”

“-who might as well be family.”

Clarke falters a little bit, “... and Niylah-”

“-my point exactly.”

Octavia glances sideways at Clarke, they have other friends, and yet, all Clarke can come up with is her brother and their exes. Then again, it’s not like they’ve seen any of them lately. They’ve been busy figuring out how Lexa fits into their lives, which is exactly why they’re here at dinner, pretending to be friends to see if Clarke’s mom even likes her. One day maybe they’ll be able to tell her.

“Well, they are quite the handful to deal with. I can certainly understand why you would be worried.” Lexa’s tone is serious, but there’s laughter in her eyes and a smirk pulls at the corner of her full lips. The look on Clarke and Octavia’s faces is worth it though, horror, indignation, and a hundred retorts that die to keep the nature of their relationship secret. 

Abby looks less certain, hands hovering over the dish she was reaching for. Clarke tilts her head and raises an eyebrow. She nudges Lexa under the table. The longer they hold eye contact the harder it is to keep a straight face until Clarke lets out a bark of laughter before dead panning,“You’re quite the ball of sunshine yourself.”

The tension around the table melts.

“I am an absolute delight, I have no idea what you’re referring to, Clarke.”

Octavia tries to unsuccessfully hold back a snort of laughter and nearly knocks over her water glass. If this is any indication of how the night is going to go, it’s going to be just fine. 

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa wakes with her back pressed against the cold wall, only half covered by the duvet, someone’s elbow is poking her in the side, and someone’s hair across her face. As she brushes the hair out of her face she realizes it’s her own that has come loose from the bun she usually sleeps in. That definitely isn’t her elbow though. She’s certain she hasn’t been asleep too long having spent at least an hour turning over the dinner in her head, at least it seemed to have gone well.

This isn’t the first time she’s woken up like this, unable to reposition herself and unable to wrestle the covers back from Clarke, because it’s most definitely Clarke who has stolen all of the blankets, again. Lexa is cold and uncomfortable and in a double bed that is far too small for three people, especially when one of them demands all of the space.

“Octavia scoot over.” Lexa nudges her half heartedly hoping that at the very least she wakes up enough to reposition herself. She tugs at the blankets again and sighs, finding them firmly tucked around Clarke who is on the other side of Octavia. Cracking one eye open she glances at the old alarm clock by the bed, the one that they have to use, because apparently a long time ago Clarke smashed her phone trying to turn off an alarm. It’s 3:04a.m., and tomorrow is going to be hell at work if she doesn’t get back to sleep.

“I can’t.” Octavia mumbles, simultaneously rolling into Lexa and spreading out across the bed.

“Why?”

“Because Clarke will end up on the floor.”

“Noooo. No floor. Scoot over, O.” Clarke is still mostly asleep and she rolls slightly, pulling the covers further off Lexa who shivers as the cold night air hits her.

Octavia lays out on her back, her limbs spread as wide as she can make them. “I can’t, I need space, or I can’t sleep between you two.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and tugs at the covers again. “Also, Clarke, blankets, release them before I freeze.”

“But then,  _ I’ll _ freeze.” Clarke whines from within her cocoon of blankets.

“Octavia switch spots with Clarke.”

“But I want to sleep next to both of you.” Octavia nuzzles her face against Lexa’s neck, and reaches out so she’s also touching Clarke. 

“Your elbows are pointy, it’s three a.m., and I’ll sleep next to you tomorrow night, and Clarke can take the wall.” Lexa’s just about done with this conversation, she wants to be warm and asleep and right now she is neither of those things. She rubs at her side, fairly certain Octavia has managed to leave her a bruise by digging in an elbow while they slept.

“As long as I get enough blankets.”

“Clarke, that’s never a problem for you because you always steal them.”

After a few more sighs and grumbles she feels the bed shift as Octavia and Clarke switch spots, only pausing long enough to kiss as they make the transition. Lexa tucks the blankets behind her huddling down in them to get warm again and pulls Clarke into her arms; she comes willingly, incredibly compliant in her half asleep state as she wraps her arms around Lexa’s middle and rests her head on Lexa’s chest.

“Warm enough?” Lexa whispers against her hair.

Clarke nods and kisses Lexa’s sternum, humming in appreciation, already halfway back to being asleep as if the whole ordeal has done nothing to disturb her.

“Octavia?”

“I’m good.”

“Enough room?”

She feels the blankets shift as Octavia shrugs. Lexa reaches out a hand, and squeezes Octavia’s shoulder as she holds Clarke tighter. They need a bigger bed, and soon.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia rubs sleep from her eyes as she crosses over the living room and into the kitchen area. The bitter richness of coffee brewing has already filled the apartment and she needs it in her system if she’s going to make it to work on time, she needs it if she’s going to do anything today.

One of her favorite things about Lexa spending the night, after the sex, is waking up to a pot of coffee already brewing. The scent pulls her out of bed and across the apartment, narrowly avoiding tripping over the couch, before she leans her weight against the counter and breathes it in her hands fumbling for a mug in the cupboard. There’s no playing rock/paper/scissors with Clarke to see who will get out of bed first; there’s just life giving coffee.

She isn’t quite sure how Lexa manages it.

She holds the mug beneath her nose, blowing on the coffee, waiting for it to be cool enough to drink. She’s impatient though, taking a sip and burning her tongue in the process. Octavia whimpers and tries to breathe around the hot liquid before swallowing.

“You know if you just waited you wouldn’t burn your tongue.”

Octavia rolls her eyes at Lexa as she walks across the kitchen in nothing but a towel, hair still damp from her shower. Lexa takes Octavia’s coffee and sets it on the counter and Octavia catches her around the waist, pulling her in for a soft kiss, just a light press of lips that elicits a small gasp from Lexa before she leans back in for another. Every morning should start like this.

Lexa hums happily. “You taste good.”

“Just ‘cus your coffee does,” Octavia mumbles, feeling a blush creep across her cheeks.

Lexa bites her lip and glances down the length of Octavia’s body, only clad in a tank top and underwear, her eyes wide and wanting. Her hands slide up Octavia’s legs to rest on her hips and she leans against her, fingers digging in softly as she pulls them together, hip bones pressed to hip bones. Octavia’s hands slide under the edge of the towel Lexa has wrapped around her torso and Lexa knows from the catch in Octavia’s breath that Octavia’s realized she’s nude underneath. 

These past several months have been everything Lexa thought she’d never have again and she can’t seem to get enough of either Octavia or Clarke. Leaning in she whispers against the shell of Octavia’s ear, lips just brushing the skin there, “I know for certain you taste fantastic.” Her fingers twist around the waistband of Octavia’s underwear and she gives them a sharp tug.

Octavia lets out a surprised squeak, her brain not quite awake for this level of flirtation, but she’s not about to complain. She slips her hands further underneath Lexa’s towel, enjoying the feeling of the soft bare skin underneath her fingertips and dips her head to press kisses against Lexa’s neck.

Coffee is definitely second only to the sex.

Lexa kisses Octavia on the cheek and steps back, “Time to get dressed.”

Octavia groans and lets Lexa go knowing already it’s going to be a long day. She takes another sip of her coffee which has cooled off just enough to drink, almost frowning as she watches Lexa walk away, but she can’t. Lexa distracted her from her coffee just long enough to keep her from burning her mouth a second time. Also, Lexa has legs that go on for days and they only own incredibly narrow towels, a combination of which Octavia will never tire. 

A glance at the clock tells Octavia she’s already running behind when she hears the shower start up again. She sighs and downs the rest of her coffee before walking back across the living room. Cracking open the door Octavia pokes her head into the bathroom, “Hurry up, Clarke!”

“I’m in the shower.”

“I know, but  _ I _ need to shower before work.”

“I thought you already showered.”

“That was me,” Already dressed, Lexa nudges Octavia into the bathroom, and pushes in after her. She rubs at the mirror, trying to get a spot clear enough to do her makeup.

Clarke curses softly and pulls back the shower curtain holding it so it covers her, as if it matters, both the women now vying for space in the small bathroom have seen her naked more times than any of them can count.

“Just join me, O.” Clarke steps back under the stream of water, obscured once again by the opaque curtain decorated with Van Gogh’s  _ Sunflowers. _ This isn’t the first morning they’ve all tried to get ready at once, every other time someone has been late for work. Never Clarke though, since she doesn’t ever start teaching until ten in the morning, the perks of being able to set your own hours. 

Octavia rolls the hem of her tank top between her fingers debating if she wants to risk it or if she’ll just skip her shower this morning and grab one when she gets home. She’s already pulling it over her head when she replies, “I don’t want to be late.”

It’s usually Clarke’s fault Octavia or Lexa are late; not that she’ll admit it.

“I promise I’ll behave.”

Lexa snorts in amusement.

Clarke pulls back the other end of the shower curtain, one eyebrow raised in question. “What?” The word is an amused challenge of indignation. 

“I said nothing.” There’s a hint of a smile at the corner of Lexa’s mouth as she applies mascara. She swipes her hand across the mirror again to try to clear the fog from the shower. Clarke flicks water at Lexa across the tiny bathroom and sticks out her tongue. Lexa frowns, as water droplets splatter across her shirt. She presses her lips in a thin line and gives Clarke a pointed look, though it’s hard for her to keep a straight face. “This is silk, Clarke. I’m going to have to change now.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke holds out one of her hands to Lexa and wiggles her fingers expectantly as she waits for Lexa to take it. “Kiss?”

Lexa raises an eyebrow but takes Clarke’s hand and lets herself be tugged across the tiny bathroom, filling the space Octavia was just in before she stepped into the shower. She wrinkles her nose, amused as she leans in towards Clarke, “You know, it’s quite good you’re cute, even when you forget to take your makeup off and you get raccoon eyes in the shower.” 

Clarke flicks water at Lexa again and pulls her in for a kiss that means she’ll have to redo her makeup and change her silk shirt for one that won’t have water stains on it. Lexa can’t find it in herself to complain though, not this morning. Even if they could use a bigger bathroom, maybe even a second one. Even if they don’t have room for three full wardrobes, or a bed that means they don’t have to sleep piled on top of one another. Even if the air conditioning only ever understands the setting arctic circle, and the heating system is so old it keeps freezing in winter. Even so, she wouldn’t trade this for anything. So she kisses Clarke back.

“O, I’m leaving in fifteen if you want a ride.” 

Octavia doesn’t have a chance to respond to Lexa before Clarke turns around and pulls her close for just a moment to press a flurry of kisses all over her face, whispering  _ morning _ against Octavia’s lips.

“What time do you get off tonight?”

“As soon as I get home, I hope.”

Clarke shoves Octavia’s shoulder lightly as they switch spots and tosses the washcloth at her. Behaving is so very hard.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa turns the empty paper cup in her hand, watching the last dregs of coffee swirl around the bottom of the cup, not even enough to for a full drop of the tepid liquid. Last night’s interrupted sleep is dragging on her mind and the only saving grace is that she doesn’t have to be in court today. Even waking up warm with Clarke still in her arms, and, inexplicably, Octavia curled around Clarke so the three of them were pressed tight together, even waking up like that wasn’t enough to make up for not sleeping the first half of the night. 

“I think I’m in need of another cup of coffee.” It’s nearly lunch and she should be awake by now.

“Get me one?” Octavia tosses an empty cup in the compost.

Lexa glowers at Octavia over the rim of her empty cup.

“Right,” Octavia smiles and rolls her eyes. “You’ve decided to be a grump because-” Lexa nearly crumples the paper cup in her hand and Octavia cuts herself off mid-sentence. Anyone could walk in at any moment. She likes that idea of risking being caught, but also, everyone at work thinks she’s only dating Clarke, and getting caught could get complicated quickly. “I’ll get you coffee,” Octavia crosses the empty break room to where Lexa is leaning against the wall and she can’t help but smile at the angry pout she knows is a cover for how Lexa really feels. There’s a crinkle in the corner of Lexa’s eyes and they sparkle when she isn’t really angry. Octavia wants to kiss that pout off Lexa’s lips but she can’t even touch her. Not here.

She stops and they’re almost toe to toe, it’s so tempting to close the distance with the break room empty.

Lexa glances at the doorway and she hands Octavia the mangled paper cup. With a sigh Octavia turns and shoots it across the room and into the trash, not taking the bait to step back. She steps forward instead. Her hands itch to reach for Lexa.

“There just needs to be a bigger sleeping space,” Octavia moves to lean against the wall next to Lexa who is giving her a wide-eyed look. “What? This isn’t the first time there’s been a problem.”

“But, this conversation now? Here?” Lexa whispers. Octavia just shrugs and Lexa rolls her eyes, “Besides a bigger bed would never fit.”

Octavia knows Lexa is right, their room in the apartment is barely large enough for the double bed they have, and Lexa’s apartment isn’t much larger. They could never fit all their things in one place. There just needs to be more room, “Maybe other things need to be bigger too.” Octavia bites her lip looking over at Lexa as she nudges her shoulder. Lexa practically lives with them already. It would be nice to make it official.

“Enough room for-” Lexa brushes the back of her hand against Octavia’s. Her heart flutters and trips in her chest.

“Yes.” Octavia says definitively and Lexa simultaneously wants to kiss her and run away.

She lets her hand fall back to her side breaking the little contact she had allowed them, “Have you talked with-”

“No.”

“Okay.” Lexa’s mind is reeling. This was just an impulsive musing of Octavia’s, she has a lot of them. The idea that she would ask Lexa to move in without thinking about it, or talking with Clarke, it’s almost expected. Even so, the question terrifies her. After Costia she never thought she would allow herself this kind of relationship again. It just leads to heartache and pain.

Everything can go from just fine to not with a single word. An entire sentence can change your week, a conversation your life. The more times the offer turns over in her head the more it scares her. Lexa feels her world drop away and she’s left with what Octavia has very clearly not actually said.  _ Move in with us _ .

Octavia leans over and presses a kiss to Lexa’s shoulder, “But you should. You two are better at planning things than I am.”

Lexa nods and slips out of the break room, muttering something about how she needed to prepare a deposition.

Pulling her phone from her pocket Octavia shoots off a quick text to Clarke.

_ Octavia 11:56am: may have just asked Lexa to move in with us because we need a bigger place so we can get a bigger bed so we can all get some sleep… love you _

##  _______________________________________

 

Nothing is ever as nerve wrecking as waiting. Clarke glances at her phone as she passes by her desk and continues to pace around the room, there hasn’t been a single message since Octavia texted her and Lexa still hasn’t shown up for lunch. She slumps down into her chair ignoring the fact that her shirt will wrinkle and she still has a meeting this afternoon with the board. This is has never been her strength.

She’s worried what Octavia’s impulsivity will cost them.

When Lexa walks into Clarke’s office she’s only just calmed her runaway thoughts, reeled in her panic and decided to wait to bring the idea up later. She isn’t ready to talk about this. It’s inevitable if their relationship keeps moving forward, but the need of a bigger bed is hardly the reason they should be moving in together. 

Lexa watches as Clarke practically leaps out of her chair, rounding her desk until she’s stopped just in front of her. She chews on the inside of her lip; it’s clear from the expectant look on Clarke’s face that Octavia told her.

“Hey,” Clarke whispers, reaching out to brush her fingers against Lexa’s. “Ready for lunch?”

“She told you.” It isn’t so much a question as it is a disappointment because if Clarke knows there is no avoiding this conversation. Lexa works her jaw, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Clarke reaches out and tugs at Lexa’s button down shirt to bring her a couple steps closer. Lexa moves reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder at the glass wall. There’s no one looking now but that doesn’t mean they won’t.

“Everyone’s already at lunch.”

“Not everyone.”

“Lexa, relax. You’re wound tightly, and not in a good way,” Clarke smiles her hands slipping to Lexa’s waist. She shakes her gently from side to side, trying to get her to loosen up.

Lexa purses her lips but she doesn’t step out of Clarke’s arms, even moving with her as she walks backwards to lean against her desk.

Clarke loops her fingers through Lexa’s belt loops and pulls her another step closer so Lexa is nearly standing between her legs. Her hands rest on Lexa’s hip bones and she tilts her head up, wanting nothing more than to sooth the hardness in Lexa’s eyes and the sharp set of her jaw.

“We can’t, not here.” Lexa dips her head, closing her eyes. She wants to give into Clarke’s unasked question, press their lips together and forget for a moment that she’s fighting not to run away. Life is so much more when they’re all together, but she’s terrified that it will end.

“You know, she’s impulsive but she’s right.” 

Lexa lifts her head slightly to look at Clarke and raises one eyebrow in a perfect arch.

Clarke reaches out to trace a fingertip against Lexa’s jaw but drops it soon after. “A bigger bed makes sense. We’d need a bigger place to get a bigger bed. If we get a bigger place it should be yours too.”

Lexa breathes out through her nose, crossing her arms over her chest. Clarke reaches out and tries to get her to untangle herself but she steps away with a small shake of her head and Clarke leans back against her desk again. Lexa can feel an unwelcome panic rising in her chest, clouding her judgement and she wonders why she kept this lunch date after what Octavia said.

“Hey,” Clarke says softly. “Lex,” she pauses waiting for Lexa to look back at her. “This isn’t something we have to do today, or tomorrow, or at any point before we’re  _ all _ ready.”

“Obviously,” Lexa snaps.

“I know O is impulsive,” Clarke pushes off her desk but doesn’t press into Lexa’s space. She needs to move, to think. “She gets an idea in her head and it just comes out of that wild mouth. It’s infuriating.”

“Quite.”

“We got you out of that infuriating mouth, after a while anyway,” Clarke teases and reaches out her hand to gently squeeze Lexa’s forearm.

Lexa softens a little, she doesn’t want to blow this up, but she feels like she’s being backed into a corner. It’s all so serious, so sudden. Octavia sprung the idea on her when they couldn’t even discuss it properly and then Clarke just agreed without an argument. She isn’t quite sure why that upsets her, she should want her girlfriends to want her around; except she knows exactly why it upsets her.

“Regardless, she shouldn’t have brought it up in the breakroom at work,” Lexa hisses.

Moving in together is serious and she hasn’t done serious since… Costia. Six years of avoiding this feeling in her chest. This is the first time she’s allowed herself close enough to anyone for them to break down her defenses like this. She’s vulnerable and it’s entirely uncomfortable.

“I can read you, Lexa. That isn’t what this is about.”

Lexa purses her lips in a thin line. She’s not doing this here, not now, not when Clarke’s coworkers can see and probably hear them through the glass wall. They have boundaries in place about their relationship for a reason. It isn’t for the public.

Clarke stalks towards Lexa, not ready to be shut down on this, Lexa is adept about not talking about things that make her uncomfortable, but this isn’t something that should be one of those things. “This isn’t about Octavia being impulsive, or that she asked you at work.” Lexa takes a step backwards as Clarke advances. “You’re just afraid of what it might mean, that you might have feelings beneath that tough exterior.”

Lexa backs into the wall and lets out a small muted squeak of surprise. Clarke doesn’t reach out to touch her but she can see the energy thrumming through her like she’s holding it in. She takes a shallow breath and then another, and another. She refuses to let Clarke see her shake, see her weak, and clamps her jaw shut tightly forcing her breath into a slow, even, rhythm.

“I know how you feel, Lexa, and I know it scares you-”

Clarke’s words are cut short but the shrill ring of her telephone that causes both of them to jump.

Lexa watches as Clarke crosses her office in three long strides, efficient, determined. Her hello is clipped and annoyed and she finishes the conversation almost before it’s begun. Whatever fight was starting between them has fizzled though by the time she turns back around; Lexa has stayed backed against the wall, waiting, unwilling to move.

Clarke’s tongue darts out to wet her lips and Lexa knows she’s thinking.

“Lex…” She leans against her desk, hands flat against the wood, fingers pressing down as if she can draw strength from the surface.

“Clarke,” her tone is even, cold, guarded. Lexa says her name like a warning.

Clarke opens her mouth to speak and shuts it again shaking her head. Lexa waits, she can wait, wait for Clarke to snap or leave, wait for Clarke to resend the invitation, wait for whatever will happen. She has nothing but patience and she’s made up her mind that she needs time, so it matters not where she takes it.

“I have to go help with a class, small kids, paint, vomit, chaos. Can we talk tonight?” She takes half a step towards Lexa as she moves around her desk once more.

Lexa inhales sharply, “I need time.”

Clarke nods once, sadly, and crosses her office unhurriedly. She doesn’t want to leave Lexa, not like this, but this is quickly becoming a conversation that can’t be had over lunch. Sometimes there isn’t a right choice to make, just bad and maybe not quite so bad. Trailing her hand down Lexa’s arm she looks up to meet her eyes, when Lexa doesn’t flinch away she takes another step closer and cups her hand against Lexa’s cheek, searching Lexa’s green eyes for a hint of what her words mean. All she finds is apprehension and Clarke is uncertain how to ease Lexa’s fears.

Lexa turns away breaking the contact between them.

“Don’t stay away too long. We lo- we’re here for you, in this together.” Clarke steps back and turns to walk out of her office, heart pounding, knowing the words that were on the tip of her tongue and not knowing when she knew they became true.

She glances over her shoulder, back through the glass of her office to Lexa, eyes closed, head leaning against the wall. Lexa looks open and raw in a way Clarke has never seen her. It takes all she has to keep walking and give Lexa the space she asked for.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa glances out at the near half-million dollar view of Anya’s apartment as she makes another circuit of the room and frowns at the setting sun. The past six months have been wonderful, difficult, trying, but something she wouldn’t trade the experience of for anything. She’s had moments of being truly happy for the first time since Costia left and even if she hasn’t found a way to let that hurt go she finds herself wanting to.

She wants to be free of this hell she’s buried herself in.

Of course, now everything is tenuously terrifying what with the proposition to move in together and Clarke backing her up against a wall softly demanding Lexa acknowledge the real reasons she’s lashing out. Lexa hates being called out almost as much as she hates being wrong, and this time she is both.

She picks up her pace just slightly, tearing her gaze away from downtown as she tries to trace the streets from the museum to the precinct, to Clarke and Octavia’s apartment, wondering where they are today. Her phone buzzes on the table and she lets out a small huff of air.

“If you wear a hole in my carpet because of this relationship, you’re paying to have it replaced.” Anya doesn’t even look to Lexa, instead settling further into her favorite chair.

Lexa flops down on Anya’s couch, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at her foster sister. She thinks better when she’s walking, it’s why she’s so good in court. All she has to do is glide across the tile floor while she judiciously chooses her words and she has the jury in the palm of her hand, with a change in tempo, the sudden stop and click of her heels on the floor she makes a witness question what they’re saying and tell the truth, the real truth. All of that power and her foster sister reduces her to a petulant teenager slouching and scowling.

“Are you going to talk about it or are you just going to glare at me?”

Lexa moves to speak but snaps her mouth shut and hunkers down just on the principle of the matter. Anya rolls her eyes and sips at her wine.

“I have dinner at seven with a client, so you’ll have to start talking sometime if you want my help tonight.” Her voice softens and Lexa can hear the concern peeking out behind the faux boredom.

Lexa succumbs to the couch and lays down, spreading out, one arm flung over her eyes, the other reaching for her wine on the table. “Octavia asked me to move in with them. I don’t know if she meant to. And then Clarke said it was a good idea.”

Anya laughs softly, “What did you think was going to happen? The two of them are head over heels for you.”

“I just wanted a bigger bed and now they’re talking about maybe getting a bigger place all together.”

For a moment Anya doesn’t speak and Lexa thinks she might not say anything. This is the moment of truth, the relationship is unconventional at best, and Lexa is constantly worried what kind of backlash it will have to deal with if she pursues it seriously. Even though Anya has been supportive the entire time, Lexa still worries that one day she’ll see her as something less.

Anya’s words are weighted, careful, “It’s not a bad idea.”

Lexa lifts her arm off her face and presses up to a half sitting position. She raises an eyebrow.

“I’m just saying, there’s nothing wrong with being happy  _ and _ comfortable. The three of you don’t have to continue to cram yourselves into that miniscule excuse for an apartment just to be together.”

“Are you happy, Anya?”

“I am. You’re changing the topic.”

“You live in this huge apartment alone.”

“Yes, but I like it like this. I have you, and I have my paramours, and I have my work. For me, that is enough.” Anya stands fluidly and offers out her hand to Lexa who lets herself be pulled from the couch. “You, however, thrive when you have someone.” Anya tips up Lexa’s chin with a single finger. “It isn’t weakness if it makes you stronger, and you, little sister, are fierce.”

“I’m not ready.” Lexa sighs. She’s been avoiding feeling for so long that she doesn’t know what to do anymore.

“No one is ever ready.”

##  _______________________________________

 

“Anya?” Clarke answers her phone on the fourth ring, both terrified and worried. It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night and Anya has never called her before. She isn’t even sure how Anya got her number.

“What did I tell you the first time we met?” Anya’s words are decidedly crisp.

At least some things don’t change. “That my wardrobe sucked.”

“Aside from the obvious.” There’s a slight slur and Clarke can nearly hear the accompanying eye roll.

Clarke sucks in a breath trying to remember that day. Anya is always intimidating and it makes it difficult for her to focus on much of anything aside from not being verbally eaten alive each time they talk. She isn’t even sure Anya  _ likes _ her. Octavia doesn’t seem to incur the same wrath.

“I told you to not let her run.”

“She asked for time, Anya.”

“That girl has had all the time in the world. You need to talk to her.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

There’s a pause, just a beat, and Clarke thinks for half a second that Anya might actually tell her.

“Are you still wanting that dress from the warrior line?”

“Yes, but wh-”

“I have a factory mistake I could have fixed and altered, text me your measurements.”

The line goes dead and Clarke stares at her phone. She’s never going to figure out this woman. More importantly what did Lexa say to Anya.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke paces in front of Lexa’s apartment for five minutes before she finally walks past the doorman who thankfully recognizes her and slips into the elevator. It’s late and she’s starting to draw attention to herself, which is the last thing she wants right now. She just wants to make it to Lexa’s door without anyone questioning if she lives in the building.

She’s only used the key Lexa gave her a handful of times, usually when she and Octavia are coming back to Lexa’s apartment they’re with Lexa. They don’t sleep over here often, usually Lexa is at theirs. Clarke hesitates, wondering if she should just go in or if she should wait. She has an open invitation but this feels… different.

Clarke knocks three times quietly on Lexa’s door and waits. She probably should have called, but she isn’t sure if Lexa would have answered. Octavia said she should just wait - but Clarke couldn’t bring herself to. There was something in Anya’s demand that made it sound more like a plea.

“Lexa,” Clarke’s voice is a breathy whisper as she takes in the sight of Lexa clad in nothing but a tank top and skin tight boxer briefs, half hidden behind the door. It’s not like she hasn’t seen Lexa in her sleep clothes or less more nights than not over the past seven months, she has, it’s just that Lexa never fails to take her breath away and tonight she had prepared herself to meet Lexa head on, hard and fighting, not soft and sleepy and yearning.

“Clarke, it’s nearly midnight.” Lexa chews on her bottom lip and holds onto the door to keep herself from reaching out.

“Anya called me.”

Lexa lets out a sigh but she doesn’t move to let Clarke into her apartment. 

“She said something about not letting you run, I figured there’s a story in there I haven’t heard.” She holds up the bottle of bourbon she picked up on the way over, shaking it lightly. When Lexa doesn’t move she rocks back on her heels, “Can I come in? Or are we going to do this in the hallway in the middle of the night?”

Of course Anya had called Clarke, at least she hadn’t actually said anything. It really wasn’t her place. Lexa swallows thickly. She isn’t ready to let Clarke and Octavia go and the promise of hope they give her. Lexa presses her lips together and lets out a long breath through her nose but she steps aside to let Clarke pass. She takes the bottle from Clarke’s hand as she does.

Clarke wastes no time making herself at home, toeing off her shoes and hanging up her light jacket. She’s tempted to strip off her jeans and borrow a pair of Lexa’s yoga pants but right now they’re on rocky ground and she doesn’t want to assume too much. She’d even left Octavia strict instructions to come over in two hours unless she heard otherwise to pick her up.

She isn’t sure why they didn’t both come. Then again, if this went south, someone had to be sober enough to get her home.

Lexa has already made her way across the apartment to the row of floor to ceiling windows that look out over downtown. She’s not looking outside though, her eyes are closed and her head is tipped back and she downs a few mouthfuls of bourbon as the softly pulsing light from the city below makes her look like a silhouette of a sad song.

The bourbon burns Lexa’s throat and hits her empty stomach in an explosion of warmth. She hates that Anya has put her in this position. Maybe, with time she would have chosen to tell Clarke and Octavia about what had happened; she doesn’t have that choice now because she isn’t ready to give up yet.

“Costia.” Lexa rasps. Her jaw trembles around the name as it pulls from her throat. She can feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes, but she won’t let them fall. Lexa breathes in and takes another sip of bourbon.

Clarke doesn’t say anything but comes to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lexa looking out over the city. She takes the bottle from her, matching her mouthful for mouthful and hands it back.

Lexa takes another drink and turns to walk back to the couch, setting down the bottle on the coffee table as she does. Her body aches with the memory of the first time she lay on the couch with Clarke and Octavia, before they were dating, before she understood what was happening between them all, before she had realized she could love again.

The feeling of it burns in her chest, though maybe it’s just the bourbon.

“The story you wanted, it’s about her.”

Clarke takes two quick steps towards Lexa and then slows her pace, afraid to startle her. She kneels down in front of her so she can meet Lexa’s downturned gaze. Her eyes are glossy with tears already.

“I didn’t come here for a story, Lexa, I came here for you.”

“Just you?”

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you, corner you.” Clarke reaches for her phone, in her back pocket. “I can call Octavia though and she’ll come over.”

Lexa opens her mouth and closes it again without speaking. She wants to lean into Clarke’s touch and feel Octavia wrap around her, be safe between them. Tonight though she can’t let herself fall into that, Costia’s memory demanding she feel the pain of it. Lexa shakes her head no. 

Clarke sets the phone face down on the coffee table.

“It’s not that I don’t want her to know,” she whispers. “I don’t talk about what happened.”

“It’s okay, Lexa.” Clarke covers Lexa’s hands with her own. “I can leave if you want.”

“No.”

Clarke nods and reaches for the bottle of bourbon and takes another sip. “We all have our darkness, Lexa.”

“And how do you deal with yours?”

Clarke hands Lexa the bottle of bourbon and turns to lean back against the front of the couch.

Lexa slides down so they’re sitting side by side, shoulders touching, knees falling against each other. Clarke next to her, warm and quiet; she’s waiting for Lexa, giving her the time, the control, everything she asks for and that realization wraps around Lexa’s heart like a gentle caress. Silence grows between them and neither moves to break it. The room is black save for the glow of the city and silent except for their small movements as they exchange the bottle.

It’s comfortable even with the weight of it all heavy between them.

For the first time since Costia turned and walked away, getting on a plane a month earlier than planned and never looking back, Lexa feels like she’s found someone aside from Anya she can trust. More than one someone. She should have let Clarke call Octavia. Her heart pounds in her chest, a thudding drum beat between her ribs, until she’s sore with feeling. Lexa threads her fingers through Clarke’s, tracing her thumb along her knuckles. It isn’t enough, she wants more, but she’ll never get these words past her lips if she takes more.

Everything she wants to say catches in her throat.

Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand, “Who was she?”

“She was mine, until she wasn’t.” Lexa looks away from Clarke, unable to meet the blue eyes, soft, worried, and searching, desperate to offer comfort. “Seven years. Seven fucking years,” she slurs. 

The story sits in her mouth too long, it’s been building in her mind for too many years, the harsh truth of it, the heartbreak, pieced together word by word and still the words are not enough, because the words sound hollow, failing to capture the profound despair of the moment Costia turned around and left. The story comes out slow and deliberate, thick with the bourbon clinging to her tongue, “We were moving to France so Costia could study archeology at the Sorbonne- I didn’t even speak French. I asked her to marry me. She let me get through this whole long proposal, we’d been high school sweethearts, you know, let me get through the whole fucking thing, professing my growing love after all those years and how with her beside me I wasn’t afraid, how together we could take on anything, and she tells me she doesn’t love me anymore, that she has feelings for someone else.”

Clarke grips Lexa’s hand, unsure what to say. She should have words for this but she doesn’t. Her heart breaks for Lexa, and she understands why Lexa is running scared, why Anya called her late at night, why they’re sitting in the dark with a half empty bottle of bourbon. She understands, but it still hurts because she wants Lexa to believe that she and Octavia are worth the risk and she doesn’t know what more she can do. All she can do is think that Costia is a fool because Lexa is not someone you walk away from.

Lexa opened up to her and she’s just holding onto Clarke’s hand like a lifeline.

“Where is she now?”

“No idea. Probably still in Europe somewhere. I never heard from her again.”

“Shit.”

“Articulate, Clarke.”

“I have my moments.”

Lexa snorts with laughter as she tries to take a sip of the bourbon and ends up coughing it up, still laughing. It isn’t that funny, but she’s sad, and she’s drunk, and Clarke sounds so damn serious. She feels Clarke’s hands on her back as she laughs and coughs, until the coughing fit gives way to uncontrolled laughter.

They both shake with it, falling together. Clarke’s hands find her face, her hips. Lexa trails her hands up Clarke’s spine before laying her down on the narrow strip of carpet between the coffee table and the couch, carefully, clumsy as only the tipsy can manage. Lexa feels a small weight lift and even through the laughter breathing feels a little easier. She presses into Clarke, her lips press against bare skin, a shoulder, collarbone, neck, jaw, until her lips press against Clarke’s. She feels her girlfriend yield into the kiss, tender and unhurried, lips joining together, parting softly, exploring without preamble. They kiss like it’s the only thing that matters.

It’s impossible to tell when laughter gives way to tears or who cries first, but it does and they are, shaking and crying and kissing and more than anything hoping that this isn’t goodbye. They end up wrapped up on the floor, limbs entwined. Lexa’s head rests on Clarke’s chest as Clarke holds her tightly. They trade of fits of sobbing and silent tears.

“I don’t want you to leave us, Lexa.” Clarke whispers against Lexa’s hair as she runs her fingers through it.

“I know,” comes her soft reply. “I don’t want you to leave me either,” her words are quiet, almost lost against Clarke’s shirt damp with tears.

“I know.” Clarke whispers and she holds Lexa tighter. Nine months ago she thought Lexa would tear her life apart if she came into it, and now she knows her life will fall apart without her in it.

_ Don’t leave _ is as close as they can get to  _ I love you _ . _ I need you _ . _ I will never leave you. _

“I need time, and space.” Lexa presses up onto her forearms so she can look down at Clarke. She doesn’t want to make this hurt any more than it already does but she isn’t ready, not yet. And she needs to be ready this time. She needs it to be right.

Clarke nods shakily, holding her breath and fighting back tears. She pulls Lexa down on top of her, holding her softly, cradling her. They’re together but so very far apart in that moment. 

Later, there’s a sharp soft rap on the door and Lexa bolts to standing. She wavers, head spinning with the sudden movement, more drunk than she thought she was.

Clarke moves slower. “It’s just Octavia. I told her to come pick me up after a few hours if she didn’t hear from us.” Her words mesh together as they tumble out of her mouth that’s already starting to feel like cotton.

Lexa nods but doesn’t move.

“How long?”

Lexa shrugs.

Clarke makes her way slowly to the front door, leaning heavily on the walls as she does. Octavia has knocked twice more since the first. She pulls the door open, blinking rapidly in the bright light of the hallway.

“Octavia,” Clarke sucks down a breath trying to keep from starting to cry again, trying to sound sober, and failing at everything.

“What happened?” Octavia tries to push past Clarke into the apartment and Clarke tries to push them both out into the hallway.

“We should just go,” Clarke leans into Octavia, her arms fitting around her girlfriend’s waist. “She needs time.”

“No. Lexa. What the-”

Clarke slaps a hand over Octavia’s mouth imploring her to keep her voice down.

“Lexa,” Octavia calls again, her voice cracking. Half words and sentences tumble out of her mouth in a quiet panic and her mind can’t quite wrap around any one thought long enough to finish it, not with Clarke, drunk, pressed against her, crying softly into her tee shirt, not with Lexa, mascara and eyeliner in tear tracks down her cheeks standing in the middle of her empty apartment.

Octavia walks into the apartment, nearly picking Clarke up to do so. “Lexa…”

Lexa trembles at the sight in front of her. She didn’t want to hurt anyone, but they’re all aching with this, and still Lexa can’t bring herself to say she’ll stay even as she doesn’t want them to leave. Even after six years she’s afraid to let herself care for anyone the way she cared for Costia.

There’s never been anyone else she wanted to love, until Octavia, until Clarke, and she’s so terrified that they will leave her that she’s considering leaving first.

She can’t make this decision right now.

Her steps are slow and deliberate as she walks toward Octavia and Clarke, determined to hold herself together. She leans into Clarke, her face inches from Octavia’s. Clarke’s breathing is soft and shaky between them and Lexa feels fresh tears on her own cheeks.

“What’s ha-” Octavia never gets to finish her question as Lexa’s mouth presses harshly against hers. Lexa parts her lips, deepening the kiss, and Octavia threads her fingers through Lexa’s hair. She tastes the bourbon and sorrow on Lexa’s tongue and the kiss feels a bit like a sad plea. They cling to each other, desperate, needing, and breaking.

Lexa breathes her words against Octavia’s lips. “I just need time, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with your reactions.
> 
> if you haven't checked it out yet the [ot4-fic tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) on my blog, it's full of headcanons and answered question about the fic. Feel free to send me your own as well. I do my best to answer them all, in some way at least.


	10. This Bed Is Too Small and Maybe The Apartment Too part 2 | 1 year 11 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The support and the depth of your reactions always moves me each week. So thank you. You're helping keep this writer going.  
> Also, my betas are the best. Thank you, lovelies. This story would be so much less without you.

Life goes on, time keeps passing, and mostly Clarke is okay with that. She and Octavia have been holding tighter to each other but they’ve been steady while they wait. Then again they’ve been avoiding talking about Lexa, avoiding talking about the idea of buying a house, one doesn’t matter much without the other. So Clarke’s thrown herself back into work; she’s still learning how to balance two jobs. Even if she only needs to produce a few paintings each month to fill the gallery space, she’s always amazed by how much time it takes to create something she feels like is worthy of selling.

She likes it at Gallery 2149, and the owner, Marcus Kane, is a pretty decent guy most of the time. One day she’d like to work in a gallery instead of the museum, but they need the money, especially if Lexa comes back.

Clarke checks the door to the gallery and is relieved to find it open. Kane isn’t always around during the day, especially this close to lunch, but she’s meeting her mother and she has the car with her and that means she won’t have to carry paintings back to the apartment this month because they didn’t sell.

“Hey Kane,” she calls as she steps inside. The front reception is empty, usually his assistant Miller sits at the desk, but she hasn’t seen Miller in a while. She hears Kane call out from his back office as she heads for the storage. “I’m just picking up the last of the paintings from last month’s show, I know there were a few that didn’t-”

“Don’t worry about that,” Kane steps out from his office as Clarke passes. “We’ll put them up next month. I’ve actually got some space I need you to fill. I was wondering though if you might be able to help me out - my assistant took some unexpected leave and I need someone to help with admin and intake and setting up, all the things he took care of.”

“You mean all the things you don’t know how to do.”

“When you put it like that, yes.” Kane laughs and leans against the wall. “I know you’re working at the museum teaching all the rugrats how to cover themselves in paint-”

“-Usually it’s me that ends up covered in paint-”

“But you had mentioned being interested in running a gallery sometime.”

Clarke smiles because this is the long term plan. Owning her own gallery one day, earning her way into it. Her mother might have money but she wants this to be something she gets of her own merit. She bites her lip trying to contain her excitement, even though her voice betrays it, “I’ll see what I can do; I might have the time.”

“Good. Why don’t you send me an email with some times you could come in next week.”

“Clarke?”

Clarke turns at the sound of her mother’s voice coming from the front of the gallery.

“I thought you were just grabbing a few paintings. Do you need- hello.” Abby walks past the half-wall that separates the reception from the gallery and stops beside Clarke.

Kane pushes off the wall and extends his hand, “Marcus Kane.”

Abby takes it, “Abby Griffin.”

Clarke takes a step back, looking from her boss to her mother and wondering just how late their late lunch is going to be.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia glances over her her shoulder at Lexa, her slacks cling lightly accentuating her long legs, and while she doesn’t hate watching her walk away… she hates watching her walk away. They haven’t talked in six days and she wants little more than to run after Lexa and press her for answers but she knows Lexa needs time. 

“Hey, Blake! You coming to work today… or am I going to need to find a new partner?”

She shakes her head biting down her worry and hurries into the bullpen towards her desk and Lincoln. One day she wants to be able to tell him about everything. He’s been one of her closest friends for more years than she can count. Today is not that day. Their relationship is complicated to everyone but them because really it’s everyone else that makes things complicated. Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia know exactly what they are. 

They did anyway. 

Octavia keeps herself from glancing over her shoulder again, hoping to see Lexa.

“I know that look, Octavia.” Lincoln pushes off the desk where he’s been waiting.

“What makes you think there’s something going on between Lexa and me?” Octavia ducks her head as she grabs the rest of her things from her desk.

Lincoln looks surprised and Octavia mentally curses herself.

“I never said anything about Lexa, but I know that look. And you’ve started calling her Lexa instead of District Attorney Woods.”

Octavia rolls her eyes even though Lincoln is behind her and can’t see, it’s not like she can hide much from him, he can read her almost as well as Clarke. She heads off for the front door, “Fine, what look?”

“You look at Lexa like you look at Clarke. You used to-” Lincoln cuts himself off and takes a few longer steps to catch up with Octavia. “I don’t want to see you make a mistake you can’t fix.”

“I can promise you don’t have to worry about me and Clarke.” Everything at home was good, it had been good, and maybe they were still kind of stuck in the honeymoon period with Lexa, but it never stopped feeling right when she was with them.

“Alright. Quick lunch on our way out? I was thinking about the sandwich shop around the corner, the one with the good bread.”

“Sounds good to me.”

They walk out of the precinct and into the hot August noonday sun. Octavia groans inwardly at the sudden change in temperature and wonders idly if they could convince their friends at the fire department to open up a fire hydrant.

Octavia glances over her shoulder thinking about her conversation with Lexa the other day and knows she’s done it again, the impulsive asking where she opens her mouth without thinking and pushes things too soon. It’s only been seven months, but she has nothing to compare it to. She and Clarke had already been living together for four and a half years by the time they got together. What was the appropriate timeframe to move in with your second girlfriend anyway? 

It all feels right so why shouldn’t they.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke sits underneath the open window with her sketch pad, hoping for a favorable cross breeze. The air conditioning unit in their apartment had busted completely, no longer even sending them into the frozen hell that they had become accustomed to, but instead sending in the suffocating hot, humid, August air. Every window in the apartment had been flung wide open and they had dug an old fan out of the closet.

Nothing helped.

“Anything?” Clarke falls to her back, waving her sketch pad like a fan and hoping for some kind of relief from the stifling heat, her pencil skitters across the wood floor until it hits the area rug between the couch and TV. It doesn't really have far to go. 

Octavia glances up, cracking one eye open, but not moving. She's clad in nothing but underwear and a tank top, and has one leg thrown over the back of the couch, wishing more than anything that they could go back to this morning when it still felt like Siberia in their apartment. “Still, no, Clarke.” She doesn’t need to check her phone to know Lexa hasn’t messaged her.

“Maybe I should call…” She rolls onto her side, her skin sticking to and sliding across the floor in equal measure.

“Lexa said she needed time-”

“-what if we don’t call and she’s waiting for us to reach out to her?” Clarke leans up onto her elbows, half sitting up. A bead of sweat runs down her neck and between her breasts. “And because we don't call she-”

“Lexa doesn’t play games, Clarke. After what she told you… I don’t blame her for being scared.” Octavia nudges Clarke with her foot but she closes her eyes. It's too hot for this - it's too hot for much of anything really, and it isn't really fair at all that Clarke has stripped down to nothing but her bra and panties. She’d kill for a smudge of air conditioning so she could do half the things that have crossed her mind in the past hour since Clarke gave up on clothes. She’d kill for it to be cooler so she could think of a way to help Clarke feel better until Lexa makes up her mind.

Octavia isn't worried about Lexa’s silence. Not yet. Lexa is the kind of person that needs to process before she makes a decision, but once she has, there's little anyone can do to change her mind. She and Lexa are alike in that way.

Another breeze wafts through the apartment but it’s neither cool nor pleasant. Sitting up, Octavia makes her way into the kitchen, opens the freezer, and retrieves the ice trays. “All we can do is give her time, and be here for her  _ when _ she comes back.”

“I’m not good at waiting. There has to be something we can do.” Clarke lays back against the wood floor wishing it was cooler.

“Well you can start by coming over here.” Octavia cracks one tray to loosen the ice. She slips a cube into the the palm of her hand and presses it to her chest, sliding it up her neck and holding back a moan at the cold.  “You still have one of your girlfriends you know.” 

“Yes, but I’m mildly upset with said girlfriend for scaring the other girlfriend with talking about moving in.” Clarke’s eyes track Octavia’s movements and she tries to suppress a smile because she knows what Octavia is doing. She doesn’t want to be distracted yet, the heat has her in a mood to complain. “It’s been seven days, O.”

“Exactly, it’s  _ only _ been a  _ week _ , Clarke. She was with Costia for  _ seven years _ . That kind of heartbreak is going to take time.” Octavia continues across the small living room, swaying her hips from side to side as she does. She can hear the waver in Clarke’s voice, the way she hasn’t really put her pencil to paper for the past hour, just held it there, waiting, and the last thing Octavia wants is for this to be something that sets Clarke back off down the dark path. She’s been doing so well lately and Octavia would do anything to keep it that way. “Do you want her to move in with us?”

“Yes.” Clarke sets her sketch pad down glancing up at Octavia. She’s as certain now as she had been when she was lying drunk on Lexa’s floor with her at two in the morning. That felt like a lifetime ago.

“Good, then try to be patient.” Octavia slips her tank top over her head leaving her bare from the waist up and crosses the last few feet to Clarke before dropping to her knees, the ice cube in her hand melting and dripping onto the bare wood floor. “She’ll come around.” She uses the melted ice to draw a line of cold across Clarke’s bottom lip. “For now, why don’t we focus on cooling down?”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s hot as hell in here, Clarke.” She presses forward catching up Clarke in a kiss before she can protest and reaches down for another ice cube. Her hands gently cup Clarke’s jaw drawing the ice across the delicate skin underneath it, down her neck and between her breasts. Clarke gasps as she yields into Octavia’s touch. “And, yes, I’m sure.”

Clarke lays back on the floor, taking Octavia with her. The ache of Lexa being gone and the heat of the day being pushed aside for just a moment as they tangle together on the living room floor. Octavia runs melting ice over her skin, droplets pooling and running across the curves and valleys of her body. Clarke doesn’t know what she enjoys more; the feeling of Octavia’s hands on her or the cold press of the ice on her overheated skin.

Her head tips back, a series of sharp moans drawing from her throat as Octavia runs her hands, chilled from handling the ice, over her sides, her stomach, her hips. She closes her eyes, revelling in the feeling. Her skin feels alive with nerve endings, both overheated from the summer heat and frozen from her girlfriend’s touch. Octavia’s hands slowly warm as she continues her gentle exploration of Clarke’s skin. 

Octavia picks up a new ice cube, as she straddles Clarke, her knees resting just inside Clarke’s elbows. She starts at Clarke’s jaw this time, methodically trailing the ice along her neck, across her jugular, following the cold sting, with cool, damp, open mouthed kisses, wanting to touch and kiss every inch of Clarke’s skin leaving her wanting and begging before she lets her come. She repeats the same on the other side of Clarke’s neck. Her shoulders, her collar bones, dipping her tongue into the hollow where they meet at the top of Clarke’s sternum. 

Cold fingers coax Clarke to arch her back as she slips a hand behind her to unhook her bra. Octavia runs the ice down Clarke’s arms, one by one, tongue swirling around the soft skin in the crook of her elbow. She slips Clarke’s arm out of the bra strap, kissing her palm and each of her fingers, sucking on them, into her mouth cooled by the remnants of the ice cubes. By the time she finishes Clarke’s other arm, Clarke is writhing and keening underneath her.

“Octavia,” Clarke begs, arching up her hips to press against the heat of Octavia’s center. “Please, babe.”

“Please what?” Octavia grins as she presses featherlight kisses to Clarke’s sternum.

Clarke reaches up for Octavia’s hands, anything to move her to start touching Clarke where she needs to be touched. “I need…” she whimpers as Octavia pulls her hands away. 

“Close your eyes.”

Clarke whines, defiantly watching Octavia.

Octavia picks up a new ice cube, “Well, if you won’t follow orders...” Octavia sighs heavily before gasping as she presses the ice to her own heated flesh, swirling it around one pert breast and then the other before teasing her nipples into stiff peaks. The ice melts quickly against her hot skin, running in thin rivulets down her toned stomach, dripping from her and onto Clarke. She tosses her head back, moaning open mouthed as she rolls her hips.

Clarke squirms underneath her, hands pressed to the inside of Octavia’s thighs, inching higher. Octavia grabs Clarke’s hands, pinning them to the ground above Clarke’s head. “No touching.”

“Please…” Clarke rolls her hips, her breath becoming labored.

“No touching, and close your eyes.” Octavia dips her head down and sucks Clarke’s earlobe into her mouth, running her teeth across it, before letting it go with a wet smack. “Do as I say and I’ll touch you again.”

Clarke arches her back, overwhelmed. Her eyes flutter close and she needs Octavia to be touching her  _ now _ . She balls her hands into fists determined to do anything to feel hands on her. The hot  August air presses against her skin. She whimpers the longer Octavia waits. Her body is equal parts heated desire and ice cooled skin, every nerve pulsing straight to her core. Even the heavy breeze from the open window makes her squirm as it swirls languidly through the room.

Octavia slips the remains of the ice cube into her mouth and dips her head down capturing Clarke’s nipple in her mouth and rolling the ice cube around the sensitive bud with her tongue. She feels it stiffen as she sucks harder, pressing the rapidly melting ice hard against the tender flesh. Clarke lets out a throaty moan, followed by a series of breathy expletives.

Digging her nails into Clarke’s hip, Octavia trails cold damp kisses down Clarke’s stomach as she tucks her fingers under the band of Clarke’s underwear, tugging it down the further down her kisses go. She brushes her lips over the edges of Clarke’s tattoos that run down her side, tracing the lines with the tip of her tongue. A sunflower, a compass rose, and a butterfly done in paint brush strokes and splotches of color. A small collage of tribute, remembrance, and thanks. 

Octavia nips at hip bones, sucking thin, soft, heated flesh into her mouth. Clarke’s underwear is lost as Octavia tosses it away.

A fresh ice cube drips cold down Clarke’s inner thighs making her squirm and jump. Octavia presses the palm of her hand flat against the plain between Clarke’s hip bones and she growls against her skin, “Stay still.”

Clarke whimpers, “Please…”

“Please what?” She nips at the silky skin at the apex of Clarke’s thighs as she pushes her legs open wider.

“Touch me,” she begs.

Octavia runs the ice cube down Clarke’s slit, swirling it around her clit before pulling back.

Clarke’s hips jump up, “Fuck!” Her voice is breathy and low.

Her body trembles, on the edge. The air is hot and thick around her but Octavia’s touch is cold and the conflicting input has her trembling. Even the barest of touches twists inside her, pushing her closer towards orgasm. Clarke wonders if she’ll break before Octavia lets her come.

Then Octavia’s tongue is on her, cold from sucking on ice as she draws circles around her clit, long broad strokes between her legs, briefly dipping inside her before returning to the overly sensitive bundle of nerves.

Clarke scrambles to find something to hold onto on the hardwood floor, writhing and moaning as Octavia holds her against the ground, keeping her hips in place. She can feel nothing but her girlfriend’s mouth between her legs, nothing exists beyond the building pressure, gasping breathes, the desire for release. Her muscles strain, back bowing as she tries to press further into Octavia’s mouth.

She whimpers, high pitched breathy moans between labored gasps of thick humid air that leave her breathless. 

Octavia flicks her tongue over Clarke’s clit, and Clarke crashes over the edge. Her muscles spasm as her orgasm rides through her body. She sees stars burst behind her eyelids before they fade to black. Slowly her voice comes back to her, but not the capacity for words, but noises that sound more like they  _ might _ have sense and meaning. With each slow brush of Octavia’s tongue her body jumps, nerves deliciously raw.

Clarke tangles her fingers in Octavia’s hair, tapping a single finger on the top of her head…  _ enough _ .

Octavia presses a kiss to her inner thigh, her hip bone, her sternum, the corner of her mouth, and Clarke captures her lips in a messy kiss, tasting herself. She feels Octavia laugh, more than hears it.

“That was hot,” Octavia giggles to herself, “Or should I say cool?” She mimes a drum, complete with sound effects.

Clarke cracks one eye open and looks at Octavia, lazily pulling her into her arms, patting her softly. “Sssshhhhh. I haven’t returned from my ascension yet.”

Pressing a kiss to the crest of Octavia’s head, Clarke snuggles closer despite the heat. Having Octavia in her arms she feels calm, whole and the flicker of hope in her chest calms and settles. She trusts in Octavia’s faith that Lexa will decide to come back to them and that their strange little home that they’ve found in each other won’t be broken apart.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa glances up as the drink is placed in front of her.

“Bourbon and Coke, right?” Niylah smiles. Lexa gives her a curt nod. The bar is nearly empty, but that isn’t unusual for a Wednesday night, they aren’t exactly on the main strip downtown, and most people who live around here work around here, except Lexa, and it’s still too early for the locals to start showing up. Lexa was on her way to Clarke and Octavia’s apartment, but never quite made it.

She hasn’t seen either of them since Clarke showed up at her apartment with a bottle of bourbon and waited patiently for her to crack open. She’s still aching from that night. 

It isn’t that she hasn’t wanted to see them, it’s just easier to pretend she isn’t afraid when she doesn’t have them in front of her. It’s easier to pretend she’s making the right decision when she doesn’t feel influenced by the feeling of them. She’s been alone for so long that it’s the only way she knows how to be.

Lexa glances up as Niylah crosses in front of her. She swirls the dark liquid around the glass before taking a sip. Liquid courage, that’s what they call it. Maybe it’ll be enough to get her to walk the final few blocks and three flights of stairs.

Niylah leans against the bar across from Lexa, seemingly run out of things to do. The bar is clean, stocked, and there’s only so many times she can wipe it down Lexa concludes. Lexa raises an eyebrow and waits. She wasn’t planning on a cheap questionable therapy session but the way Niylah is looking at her suggests that might be what happens.

A smile pulls across Niylah’s lips and Lexa can’t help but think that Octavia had once mentioned Clarke and Niylah had been a thing, a long time ago, and that, in all honestly, she can see why it might have happened. She’s attractive and attentive and adaptable. The woman is looking at Lexa like she’s holding onto a secret but she knows better than to open her mouth. Niylah reaches for a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses, pouring the amber liquid to be brim and sliding one across the bar to Lexa.

“You never come in here alone.” She lifts her glass indicating Lexa should do the same. Lexa hesitates but follows suit, clinking the shots together before tipping it back. “How did you meet Clarke and O?”

Lexa swallows. She doesn’t need to look around to know that the bar is completely empty except the two of them. Not even the music is loud enough to cover the silence when she hesitates with her answer.

“I work with Octavia.”

“You’re a cop?”

“Lawyer.”

Niylah makes a noise like it all suddenly makes sense now which Lexa only finds mildly annoying; Lexa rolls her eyes, but there’s an amusement to it. Niylah takes it as an invitation to continue. They talk about nothing much of consequence and for a few minutes at least Lexa finds herself distracted from the infuriating indecision in her head. It’s what she needed.

“What do you do when what you probably should do and what you want are different things?” Lexa chooses her words carefully avoiding anything that would give away her relationship.

“I don’t believe in regretting not doing something. I would rather have taken the chance.” Niylah picks up the empty glasses and walks to the end of the bar, Lexa watches as she flips long blonde hair over one shoulder, wondering why she’s even half confiding in a bartender she’s only met a handful of times. It must have been the shot.

She steps off the barstool, leaving more than enough cash to cover the drinks and making sure she has her things as she makes her way out of the dim bar and onto the still bright street. She knows she’s made her decision, even if she wants to fight it. When it comes to Clarke and Octavia she has really only had one choice. 

Lexa slips on a pair of sunglasses and glances down the street toward the apartment, then down the other way toward the underground line that runs to her place. Her heart and her head have been at war too long; she’s done with this fight.

Tomorrow she’ll make it all right.

##  _______________________________________

 

Two days turned into almost two weeks since Octavia asked Lexa to move in with them and now Octavia is starting to get worried, not quite that Lexa has left for good, but what her silence will do to Clarke. She’s seen glimpses of Lexa at work but hasn’t pressed the issue; Lexa asked for time and she intended to give it. This morning Clarke curled around Octavia like she was the only thing holding her together and Octavia’s decided they’ve waited long enough without a word, even if the words end up being  _ not yet _ , that’s something.

Octavia isn’t about to let Clarke spiral into another depression right after she had recovered from her last.

She’s taken twice as many breaks as normal and done everything short of walking into the DA’s office herself trying to run into Lexa. The day is nearly over when she spots Lexa slip into the break room. She still hasn’t decided what she’s going to say or do but her she leans against the wall just outside the door and waits. Lately she’s gotten better at waiting.

She’s still impulsive.

Octavia nearly tackles Lexa when she exits but manages instead to pull her down the hallway and into one of the supply closets when all she wants to do is shove her up against a wall. She’s angry about the silence and her body aches with it, if she’s honest she also aches for Lexa. Her skin misses Lexa’s touch, the steadiness of her hands and the soft, reverent, unfaltering way she touches Octavia. She falters for a moment, realizing she isn’t just doing this for Clarke, she’s doing it for herself too, because she misses Lexa. Still, Octavia doesn’t relax her grip, she needs Lexa to understand the severity of what is happening.

Lexa turns to see worry lines etched on Octavia’s face and she barely waits for the door to be closed behind her or for a single word to start to pour past Octavia’s lips before she presses into her, hands coming to cup Octavia’s face as she leans in and kisses her. It’s been twelve days and that’s far too long.

She doesn’t want to regret not taking this chance.

Just like she doesn’t regret asking Costia to marry her, even if that didn’t turn out the way she had hoped. She regrets not fighting and not trying. She doesn’t want to regret not giving this everything she has.

Octavia’s back slams into the door and Lexa leans into her, their bodies flush. The kiss tastes like lipstick and coffee and she doesn’t want it to end, she wants what kissing like this leads to. Heated, and unrestrained, she wants to satisfy the need between her legs. Octavia presses back into her, conflicted, wanting, and angry.

Lexa searches Octavia’s face for a hint. Smudged lipstick from uncareful kisses, most of it Lexa’s, outlines her mouth which is turned in a small thin frown. Octavia’s arms, however, are linked firmly around Lexa’s waist, not letting her step back. It isn’t no, it isn’t stop, it’s wait. Lexa traces a finger delicately underneath Octavia’s bottom lip.

There’s a fierceness in Octavia’s eyes and she doesn’t flinch even though she’s the one who’s been pinned. “You need to talk to Clarke before she goes crazy waiting for you to come back.” Octavia’s fingers dig into Lexa’s sides for a moment and she lets out a steadying breath. “She thinks you’re going to leave us.”

Octavia steps forward, pivoting them, slamming Lexa back against the door. The breath goes out of her and Lexa is left staring into Octavia’s eyes, chest heaving as she relearns what it feels like to have air in her lungs. It burns and makes her feel alive again, and she knows she made the right decision, as soon as she can make things right again.

Lexa sucks in a breath, trying to keep her expression neutral. Her intent had been to come back after work, talk with Octavia and Clarke, apologize, because for the last week she had done her best not to think about what her actions had meant to anyone else. Now that this has started though she has to face the consequences of her actions. She keeps her voice soft, letting Octavia hold her in place, “And you? What did you think?”

“You’ve been avoiding me at work; I’ve been focused on Clarke and making sure she’s okay.” 

“I do have actual work to do, Octavia, I can’t always see you every day when I’m here.” She keeps her tone even because it’s a flimsy excuse.

Octavia relaxes her grip and brings one hand up to play with Lexa’s collar. The kiss had taken her by surprise, she’d expected a protest, a fight even, to draw out the conversation and get Lexa to talk to her. Instead Lexa had kissed her without so much as a hello. She tugs at Lexa’s shirt, “So, are you…”

“What?”

Octavia looks up to meet Lexa’s gaze without lifting her head, gazing at her girlfriend through long lashes. Her heart is beating wildly against her rib cage and she’s afraid Lexa’s answer won’t be the one she came searching for. “Are you coming back to us?”

Lexa reaches behind her and locks the closet door before shutting off the overhead light, “Yes,” the word is half-breath, half a promise that Lexa never wants to break, as much as it terrifies her. She can’t walk away and she doesn’t want to.

Octavia’s kiss is a firm clash of teeth, demanding and needy. “I have a meeting in twenty, and you better come home after work,” she presses the words into Lexa’s mouth, her hands already pulling up Lexa’s skirt. Lexa is with them and Octavia doesn’t want to waste time missing her. She needs Lexa like she needs air and her fingertips drink down bare skin as she swallows down Lexa’s gasps.

“I will.”

Thigh highs are infinitely more practical than tights.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke intended to spend the afternoon in her studio, but it was too hot in their apartment with the air conditioning unit still broken. She should be painting, Kane has three more spots he’s asked her to fill in the gallery and she doesn’t have anything she’s ready to part with yet. Lately she’s been a bit distracted, but she wouldn’t trade the time for anything.

Lexa has changed her life and not in the way she expected. She sighs and pushes at the worry that’s trying to eat away at her because she knows Lexa won’t just walk away, she just needs time, and Clarke is trying her best to be good at giving it to her when all she wants to do is take action.

Which is why Clarke is sitting here at the bar with Niylah on a Thursday afternoon, sipping on whiskey and avoiding questions about what’s really on her mind. Niylah has always been good at distracting her, then again, when you’ve known someone for more than five years, things like that become second nature.

A lot of things become second nature.

Niylah glances at Clarke and raises her brow in question, when Clarke doesn’t respond she sighs and sets down the whiskey in front of her. “You know, I still know what that look means, Clarke.”

“It isn’t fair that you can still read me.”

“Like you don’t still know me that well.”

“Fair enough,” Clarke sighs and takes a sip of the whiskey. It’s not like Clarke even had to say something was bothering her for Niylah to know. She always does.

“Last time I saw you and Octavia things seemed fine, though your friend Lexa was here the other day, she seemed upset. You want to talk about it?” Niylah shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to her, but Clarke knows better; Niylah won’t let it go until she feels Clarke has talked through whatever she needs to talk through.

Clarke purses her lips and rolls her eyes, even if she’s not upset with Niylah, she has an infuriating way of knowing things, and usually being right. Clarke hopes though, at least, that Niylah’s intuition hasn’t cracked open their secret. It wouldn’t be so bad if their friends knew, but all their careers are based on reputation and Clarke doesn’t want to be the one responsible for that public relations nightmare.

“She gave me that look, too, though it’s more intimidating when she does it.” Niylah shrugs but fixes Clarke with a pointed stare before turning back to cleaning up the bar. And like that, she’ll wait. Clarke checks her phone and shoots off a quick text to Octavia to meet her after work. There’s no point in going home until it actually cools off. Clarke figures she can keep her mouth shut for long enough for Octavia to show up. A bell jingles as the front door opens. 

“Speaking of,” Niylah gestures over Clarke’s shoulder. “The intimidating one is here.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder to see Lexa walking toward them. Her phone buzzes but she ignores it. She bites her lip and covers her nervousness with another sip of whiskey. Two weeks is forever when you’re waiting for someone, when your heart is on the line. Lexa dips her head, her long wavy hair falling over her shoulders and she tries to hide a smile, but Clarke catches it and it makes her heart skip a beat. Everything about Lexa takes her breath away; it always does.

Today it’s the jeans hugging her curves, and the loose, clearly ironed band t-shirt she has half-tucked in, the way a smile tugs at the corner of Lexa’s mouth like she wants to say something or do something and she has to keep it inside. And maybe she does. 

Clarke has to talk herself into staying on the stool and not launching herself into Lexa’s arms.

Twelve days and she still can’t shake the worry settled in the back of her mind, but all it takes is the sight of Lexa for her to want to forget and forgive. It isn’t just her pretty face though, or the hope that Lexa will choose to stay. There’s a light in Lexa’s eyes that Clarke can see even in the dimly lit bar, something in the way she walks toward Clarke slowly and Deliberately that tells her the answer, and in that Clarke realizes they’ll work through whatever they need to, because she’s here, and they’re choosing to do this.

She hopes she’s reading this right.

Lexa stops just shy of Clarke and slips onto the bar stool before she lets herself reach out to embrace her. This is not the place, there’s nowhere for them to hide for a few moments, it would be too obvious in the nearly empty bar if they were to sneak off to the bathroom for a few moments. And as neat as Niylah keeps the place, Lexa really doesn’t want to make things up to Clarke in a dingy bathroom.

Lexa tries not to think about her tryst with Octavia in the closet at work earlier because all it does is make her want Clarke more.

“You’ve returned.”

“I wasn’t gone that long, Clarke.”

Lexa watches Clarke’s gaze drop, her tongue darting out to wet her lips, and she wants to reach forward, cup Clarke’s face in her hands and tip her gaze back up so she can drink in whatever pain she knows she caused before she leans in for a kiss. She can do none of that right now. Instead she reaches for Clarke’s whiskey, taking a sip.

She weighs her words carefully, “I  _ am _ here.” 

Lexa slides the tumbler back to Clarke, briefly letting their fingers touch as Clarke’s hand wraps around the glass. Lexa inhales sharply at the touch, her eyes transfixed on where their fingertips barely touch, even that gentle contact sending a wave of desire through her. It’s terrifying.

“Are you?” Clarke raises an eyebrow, even though Lexa’s here in front of her, she doesn’t trust it to mean that she’ll stay, all the fear she felt when she thought Octavia would leave her for Lexa comes flooding back in, except it’s different this time. If Lexa leaves she’s afraid they will always feel the loss, a Lexa-shaped hole in their life. She and Octavia would survive, they always do. They would love and be happy, but it wouldn’t be everything their life could be if only Lexa stays. Clarke holds her breath, trembling.

“Yes.” Lexa says firmly. She meets Clarke’s gaze, dark blue eyes black in the dim bar. Maybe it’s her own desire she sees reflected in them, or maybe Clarke is feeling the same desperate need.

“Good.” She wants to believe it. Her focus flicks to Niylah at the end of the bar and she wishes they could just stay where they are and finish this discussion. “Our air conditioning is busted, we should go talk at your place...”

Lexa tips back the rest of Clarke’s whiskey and slides off the bar stool putting herself in Clarke’s space. She nods, registering the surprised look from Clarke for a moment, lingering longer than she should before spinning abruptly, her heels clicking across the floor calling for Clarke to follow.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke crosses Lexa’s barely furnished living room, stopping in front of the windows looking out on downtown. Everything seems so small from up here, clean, easy, organized, like everything is playing out as it should. Just a few moments ago they were those people down there, walking through the grid, another piece of the puzzle. Everything fit together.

The subway ride had been taken in silence, neither daring to talk or to touch the other. Lexa kept giving Clarke these looks like she would offer her up the world if only Clarke would allow it and Clarke wasn’t certain she could do that yet. The softness in Lexa’s eyes will break her and to break there in the subway car would be all too public.

Now though, in the calm of Lexa’s apartment the silence stretches between them and Clarke doesn’t know how to break it.

Lexa pauses just behind Clarke watching her shoulders tense as she senses her come close. She runs her fingertips along Clarke’s spine, feeling the muscle tighten underneath her touch and she traces the outline of Clarke’s shoulder blades, the slope of her neck, memorizing every inch of her from this angle as she moves closer moment by moment until they’re just barely touching. 

She gives Clarke every chance to pull away.

“Clarke,” Lexa breathes her name on the delicate skin behind Clarke’s ear following the caress of air with one of lips. “I don’t need any more time,” she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist and pulls her close. Clarke gasps at the contact but she leans into it, her head tipping back to lean against Lexa’s, and Lexa presses into her, hiding her face against Clarke’s neck, breathing in her scent once again. She smells like the shampoo they all share.

She smells like home.

Lexa’s heart hammers in her chest and she knows Clarke must feel it and so she tightens her hold. She isn’t going to run this time. Even if she’s scared she’s right where she wants to be.

“We want you to move in with us,” Clarke brings up a hand to wrap around Lexa’s, holding onto her as much as she is holding her there. “I know what Costia did was terrible, but don’t run out on Octavia and me because of it.” Her fingers dig into Lexa’s arm for a second before releasing. She turns her head to press a half kiss to Lexa’s hair. “We need-  _ I need _ you,” Clarke whispers.

Lexa nods against Clarke’s shoulder. If she could stay here wrapped up around Clarke in this moment she would. Right now they’re safe and they’re almost okay. The fear of being left plays on her heart, brings it into her throat and all the things she should say right now she can’t bring herself to, how she cares for both her girlfriends, how she feels hopeful, how she wants this. She presses a kiss to Clarke’s neck and rests her chin on her shoulder.

“If we only end up having room for one couch we should keep mine, we all fit on it better.”

Clarke turns in Lexa’s arms, her world slowing down to that single moment, because all she can hear is the things that Lexa isn’t saying and what they mean. Lexa’s face is open, soft, and hopeful, her eyes wide with anticipation as she waits for Clarke’s response. She could get lost in Lexa’s green eyes, and she realizes she has the rest of forever to. Clarke’s hands fall to Lexa’s hips and she starts to walk them backwards.

“It is much more comfortable than ours.”

Lexa lets out a small gasp as her knees hit the couch and she falls into it. Clarke isn’t far behind her, legs straddling Lexa’s lap as her hands find Lexa’s face. They’ve fallen together like this a hundred times but this is different. Like the first time they hugged it gives them pause, but instead of a fluttering of feelings, panic and uncertainty, they sink into a calm silence, hearts beating in sync, expectant but steady.

Clarke catches her fingers in Lexa’s hair at the nape of her neck as she leans in to kiss Lexa. Soft lips part as the kiss intensifies. Even though it’s only been little more than a week it feels like it’s been too long since their last kiss, since the last time they held each other, felt each other come alive under the other’s touch.

Maybe this works out and maybe it doesn’t but right now they’re fighting to stay in each other’s lives because however unlikely they are this works. Relationships are a series of choices. Clarke grins into the kiss, glad that this is the choice Lexa made. 

Lexa slips her hands underneath Clarke’s shirt and she runs her hands up Clarke’s back, down her sides, revelling in the feeling of her skin. She presses her hips up into Clarke’s and she pulls her closer, kissing her harder. There’s a delicious ache building in between her thighs and Clarke’s hand tangled in her hair, pulling gently, is driving her wild. Clarke’s hand cupping her cheek, running down her neck, fingertips skirting under the edge of her t-shirt. Lexa moans into the kiss even as she flicks open the clasp of Clarke’s bra.

She isn’t sure where her shirt ends up, or her bra, or Clarke’s, just that they’re gone, and as she lays Clarke back down on the couch, slowly hovering over her, Lexa feels so entirely certain that following her heart is the right thing to do. Clarke is warm beneath her as she lowers her weight onto Clarke, settling between her legs.

“I missed you,” Clarke whispers between kisses.

Lexa nudges Clarke’s face to the side, kissing down her jaw and down her neck. Her heart swells at the confession and she doesn’t know how to respond. She missed Clarke and Octavia but it was her fault she was gone. It doesn’t feel right to complain about the pain she caused herself. She sucks on Clarke’s neck, taking the delicate skin between her teeth, revelling in the soft breathy moans that her girlfriend makes. Lexa licks across the red skin, soothing it.

“Thank you for taking me back.”

Clarke nods and arches up to kiss Lexa. Her hands are incessant on Lexa’s back, trying to pull them closer. “Have you talked to Octavia yet?”

Lexa hums and affirmative into the kiss and slips a hand between them to palm Clarke’s breast. Clarke slips a hand between them as well, but she flicks open the button of Lexa’s jeans. Lexa moves her hips so Clarke has more room to manoeuvre. “Please,” she begs, excitement already sending shocks through her. Clarke doesn’t waste any time circling her fingers around Lexa’s clit before sliding one inside her, hooking it to reach that spot.

Lexa moans.

They nearly miss the sound of keys in the door.

Clarke surges up and kisses Lexa, whispering to her to keep quiet.

The sound of the door shutting is followed by that of shoes being taken off, things being hung up, a plastic sac filled with takeout containers from the Thai place down the street being dropped on the coffee table behind them follows. Octavia is standing over them but they haven’t bothered to move, still kissing, hands still exploring. Clarke hasn’t moved her hand, still gently caressing Lexa, slowly sliding in and out of her.

There’s something hot about their girlfriend watching them.

Octavia clears her throat trying to get their attention. It’s not that she minds watching them making out. When it comes to Clarke and Lexa, she finds it impossible to not enjoy. Even so, being this close to them watching their bodies roll together, half naked, listening to the small moans as they kiss, she feels that familiar ache start building and she wanted to join in. She nudges the couch with her knee.

Clarke pulls down on Lexa’s hips with her free hand and slips a second finger in with her next thrust as she brushes her thumb against Lexa’s clit.

“Oh, fuck,” the words rip from Lexa’s throat. “Clarke,” she breathes out.

Clarke picks up her pace, because there’s no hiding that Octavia walked in on them, and she can feel from the way Lexa is moving against her hand that she’s close. She sneaks a glance up at Octavia standing over them and catches her eye as Lexa lets out another moan against Clarke’s lips and she’s shuddering in Clarke’s arms, clenching around her fingers, breath hitching and breaking in her quiet undoing. Lexa collapses against Clarke kissing her languidly.

Octavia knocks her knee against the couch again and Clarke breaks the kiss, laughing. It doesn’t take long for Lexa to start laughing as well, hiding her face against Clarke’s neck as she slides off of Clarke, wedging herself between her girlfriend and the back of the couch. Clarke wraps her hand, still sticky, around Lexa’s waist.

Lexa reaches out a hand for Octavia who comes readily to them, even as she grumbles about being excluded.

“You enjoyed it,” Clarke teases.

“That is not the point.” Octavia retorts as she leans over to kiss Lexa soundly. It’s only been a few hours since their tryst in the closet but it feels like forever since they kissed like this. When it’s the three of them it’s different; it’s more.

Clarke laughs and pushes at Octavia’s shoulder. “Point made.” She snakes her free arm around Octavia’s waist and relaxes contentedly into the couch, wishing for a moment that every day could end like this. “So what do you say, O, when we move, we keep Lexa’s couch?”

Octavia grins and nods, “I’m down. It’s comfy and we’ve got some good memories here.” She presses a quick chaste kiss to Clarke’s lips, “Also, you haven’t actually thrown up  _ on _ this one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with your reactions! I love hearing from you all.
> 
> **Also, I started a[new page on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) That organizes all the questions I've recieved about the fic! Headcanons and sneak peeks and everything. ** Feel free to send me your own as well. I do my best to answer them all, in some way at least. And as always you can just check out [the tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic), for all things fic related.


	11. This Bed Is Too Small and Maybe The Apartment Too part 3 | 1 year 10 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to post the new chapter is one of the highlights of my week. I can't wait to see what you all think.
> 
> And next week is the week you've all been waiting for is next week! The girls finally meet Raven in chapter 12.

One week to the day and Clarke has made them look at nine houses already. Nine houses in between three diverse work schedules including court schedules, and early morning detective work, and teaching small children how to cover the canvas, instead of themselves, in paint.

After the preliminary tour the realtor had disappeared to wait in the kitchen while they explored the house on their own. Upstairs, Clarke had already claimed one of the rooms for her studio, deciding the wooden floors and large bay windows were absolutely perfect and  _ one hundred times better than the tiny closet I’m in right now _ .

Octavia had muttered something about how their entire apartment was a tiny closet and could probably fit in the living room downstairs.

Lexa hangs back a little, watching Clarke and Octavia moving together through the house, excited by each discovery, discussing how they could possibly fill the space. There is so much of it, more square footage than both their apartments combined. In a way it warms her to watch them together, exploring and feeding off each other, Clarke wrapping around Octavia when she wanders close, but letting her go again as Octavia finds something new that excites her and makes her pull away as she sticks her head into closets and cabinets.

The view from the second floor isn’t bad either. It’s not as good as the view from her loft, or as intimate as the one from Clarke and Octavia’s apartment, but the city skyline is there, impressive and spread across the northern horizon.

She’s not paying attention when she feels arms wrap around her waist and Clarke slides in front of her, leaning against the window sill and pulling Lexa against her.

Lexa starts to pull away and she glances quickly at the doorway, “Clarke, the-”

Clarke doesn’t let Lexa pull away, tightening her grip just enough to give Lexa pause, but she keeps her voice low. “The realtor is downstairs and letting us see how we feel in the space,” she grins. “And I want to know what it feels like to kiss you in this room because there’s going to be a lot of kissing in this room if this ends up being  _ the _ house.”

Lexa feels Octavia’s hands run down her back and sides before she wraps around her from behind. Octavia’s lips brush against her neck, “I like how Clarke thinks.”

She doesn’t really have time to form a retort because Clarke is kissing her softly, and Octavia is running featherlight touches up her spine, lips pressing against her neck, and she knows they’re right, for the moment they’re alone and this would be  _ their _ room. If it doesn’t feel right here, this isn’t the right place. Lexa closes her eyes and reaches a hand back to tangle in Octavia’s hair as she winds her other hand around Clarke to the small of her back. The delicate touches of hands and lips turns into a slow dance like it always done when it’s the three of them together, nothing more between them than being in that moment.

Octavia shifts to Lexa’s side and she and Clarke open up their arms to bring her in. It’s amazing how quickly they’ve all adjusted to having a third person in a relationship, figuring out how to navigate limbs and read cues. Lexa breathes in and lets the feeling of being between them settle over her as she watches Clarke kiss Octavia fully, passionately, without abandon. She feels the hope of the future and for the time being it doesn’t feel as daunting as it does when they aren’t wrapped around her. Octavia’s hands move to her face, pulling her in for a kiss, as deep as the one she shared with Clarke. She takes Lexa’s bottom lip between her teeth, hinting at more.

Lexa moans into the kiss even as she pulls back from it. “Not here,” she whispers.

Hands fall from her and they pull apart, slowly scattering to varying places in the room. Lexa stays at the window, looking out at the yard. It’s wonderful to imagine, but it’s so much more than they need. When still, all they really need is a bigger bed, and to be only paying rent on one place.

“It’s too big.”

“It’s only a bit bigger than we had talked about,” Clarke counters.

“What are we going to do with all that extra space? It’s not like we’re going to start dating anyone else.” Lexa rolls her eyes at her girlfriends. The master bedroom alone could easily fit a California king and still have room for multiple dressers. She runs her hand along the window sill, looking down on the small back yard and out to the city behind them, downtown rising out of the thin edge of suburbia between them and it. All of their things combined would hardly fill the space and Lexa doesn’t really want anything more. It seems like excess because it isn’t something they need. She’s never understood extravagance.

This house is the kind of thing she never let herself dream about after the whirlwind few years that was life with her and Anya’s adopted parents. She was nine, Anya, fifteen, when they were adopted. Anya had refused to be separated from her after they had shared so many foster homes, small trundle beds, never having more than they could stuff in a few garbage bags at a moment’s notice. The Woods’ house had felt like a mansion to them; it had been the first place she remember calling home.

This is a home. Her last home had left her with nothing but heartache and money she hesitates to touch. She’d stopped dreaming about ever having one again.

Octavia’s voice breaks through her thoughts, “What about kids?”

Lexa stills, eyes fixed on the skyline downtown, willing the twin bubbles of panic and hope that are threatening to burst inside to calm down. It’s not like she hadn’t thought about the possibility for herself one hypothetical day, even if she didn’t have that answer yet. Kids are a permanent fixture, they change your life forever. You can’t give them away when it doesn’t work out.

Clarke hisses Octavia’s name and Lexa hears a small grunt and whoosh of air. She can only assume Clarke elbowed Octavia. The thought brings a small smile to her lips. They’ve both been careful lately with conversations about their future together.

“We’d have room; it was just a thought,” Octavia mutters ruefully.

Lexa turns, shoving her hands into her pockets in lieu of crossing her arms. Even if they haven’t discussed it yet, the idea implies there’s a future for them all. That they want to be together, with her, for years, for enough time to have a family and a life. She doesn’t want to look closed off from that. “It’s a good thought,” she whispers.

Octavia smiles and dips her head before turning and disappearing into the walk in closet, still rubbing at her side. “I think we could even fit all of Lexa’s clothes in here,” she calls.

“We could have lots of guest rooms with the extra space, and we’re pretending one of them is your room anyway, at least for now.” Clarke offers crossing the room and leaning into Lexa, she holds back just enough so they can look at each other, “And think of the parties we could host in that downstairs.”

“It’s out of our budget.” Lexa counters even as she links her hands behind Clarke’s back to hold her in place.

“I could ask my mom.”

Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise but she keeps it out of her voice, instead opting to keep her voice even, “I thought we weren’t asking Abby because that would require telling her about us.”

“Maybe somebody besides Anya needs to know about us.” Clarke leans in and presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s lips before turning her head to rest in on Lexa’s shoulder as she continues, her nose brushing against Lexa’s neck. “I’m not saying we tell everyone. I’m just saying we tell my mom and ask for her help with getting the house.”

“Do we have any other options?” Lexa rests her chin on Clarke’s head. She’s only met Abby a handful of times, and while she seemed to like Lexa well enough, she wasn’t certain yet how she would respond to knowing that her daughter was in a relationship with two women.

“Exorbitant bank loans?” Octavia chimes in, emerging from the closet. “We should think about it. This place has working heating and air conditioning.”

“I’m sold,” Clarke laughs.

“Do we really need this much space?”

“ _ Lexa, air conditioning. _ ”

“My apartment has a working air conditioner.”

Clarke tightens her arms around Lexa and presses a kiss to her shoulder, waiting for Lexa to relax.

“Abby does like you, Lexa.” Octavia shrugs and moves across the room to wrap her arms around Clarke from behind.

“Mom thinks you’re an excellent influence on us.”

“You make me sound like the token responsible one.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow suggestively and pushes Lexa up against the wall, with the help of Octavia, fully intent on stealing more than a single kiss this time. Her words are a challenge, “Aren’t you?”

Lexa can’t back down from a challenge.

##  _______________________________________

 

They left the house behind a little later than planned, pulling themselves apart before they made too much noise, took too long, before they did anything that would make the place theirs. Lexa still wasn’t sold on this option, insisting they didn’t need all the space, even if she wanted what it meant. Clarke and Octavia love it though, and of all the houses she’s seen, it’s been the best option.

Lexa has hope, and she can’t really process that right now because they’re heading out to meet Anya for dinner and they have to start decoupling before they get to the restaurant. This is always the hardest part, pretending that they aren’t together, second guessing every action, is this touch platonic or is it too friendly. Am I looking at my girlfriends like they mean the world to me, or just like my best friend is the most wonderful person ever?

It hurts if they’re honest, which is why they rarely go out. Not being able to show the way you feel for someone you’re with is a double edge sword. It cuts you all, and when you’re only together behind closed doors sometimes you wonder if you’re really together at all because the feelings are so profound it does them a disservice to keep them secret.

Lexa reaches for Octavia’s hand as she drives and places it on her thigh before moving her hand back to the steering wheel. She wants the touch right now to remind her that they’re together in this. Octavia continues rattling on to Clarke about something at work, but she runs her thumb against the side of Lexa’s thigh and it’s all the strength Lexa has to keep her eyes open and on the road.

She wishes they were driving home instead of out to dinner with her sister.

Instead she finds herself seated around a table at the back of a fancy Italian restaurant surrounded by her girlfriends and Anya, and it’s pleasant, even if it feels like they’re all pretending. They order quickly and turn back to catching up.

“How’s house hunting going?” Anya asks. She doesn’t really do small talk.

She’s met with three dead eyed stares because they’ve been to nine houses in the last week, three of them today. It’s only been a week and they’re kind of over it, maybe it’s that they just left house number nine and they really don’t feel any closer to knowing what to do or which house to pick.

Lexa sighs as their waiter walks away with their orders. “They’re trying to talk me into this huge house just outside of downtown.”

“It isn’t  _ that _ big, Lexa.”

“It’s two stories, O.”

“Yes, but I could have a real studio space for once.” There’s a hint of pleading in Clarke’s voice and Lexa knows that is what will make her give in if they insist on the last house.

“I’m sure we’ll find a smaller, less expensive, place that will allow for you to have a studio.”

“Not like that one,” Clarke nudges Lexa under the table, smiling. She knows they haven’t talked about this yet, but she wants Lexa to agree to that house. There’s a future in that house. “We could borrow the money from my mom.”

“Isn’t that,” Lexa pauses, “Complicated?”

“Only if we make it. We could just talk to her about the situation.” Clarke reaches across the table and starts pouring water for everyone, as if suggesting they come out to her mother as polyamorous and asking for a huge loan in the same breath is no problem at all. She knows it shouldn’t be, it’s not like they’re taking out an ad in the paper, and right now, she wants to keep the truth about them quiet almost as much as Lexa does. She’s lost enough students to parents who can’t handle their precocious preschooler being taught art by an openly bisexual woman.

“You realize that your gi-”

Three sets of eyes dart to Anya’s face and she stops mid sentence.

Anya rolls her eyes and sets her glass down. “That,  _ Lexa _ , has a trust fund and inheritance money, our adopted parents were fairly well off.”

“She’s mentioned it.” Octavia answers.

Lexa looks down at the table, her voice is soft, “They were rich.”

She and Anya have had this conversation many times. While Anya had never had a problem spending their adopted parents’ money it had always felt wrong to Lexa. They had only been with them for three years and she had never felt like anything of theirs belonged to her, even if she had felt at home with them. Anya was her family. Anya was the one that raised her while she had gone to college and started work, she was the one that set her life aside to make sure Lexa had a home. 

Lexa only wants to use what Anya gave her; those are things she earned.

“Well, because of them we’re rich too,” Anya says with a shrug.

“You’re rich because you’re a famous designer,” Lexa counters as she stabs a fork in Anya’s direction before spearing a piece of bread from the basket in the center of the table. Anya tilts her head as if to say she won’t argue that.

Clarke glances to Octavia, because it’s rare they get to see Lexa like this except when they’re alone. And even this is more. They still aren’t quite use to the dramatic sarcasm Anya and Lexa spit back and forth. Octavia nudges Clarke as the moment of silence continues.

“My mom’s a surgeon, and she’s said before that she’d help Octavia and me out with a place if we ever needed it.”

“Yes, but this is you, and Octavia, and Lexa-”

“Anya!” Lexa hisses.

“It’s not like anyone is paying any attention. Breathe, Lexa.”

Octavia grabs Lexa’s hand under the table and Lexa snatches her hand away in a huff, only to reach back out a moment later when she actually starts breathing again. This isn’t Octavia’s fault.

“It’s just us, why can’t we say that-” Octavia pauses as Lexa squeezes her hand. She rolls her eyes, “Why can’t we even say the truth?

“We’ve been over this,” Lexa says, but she won’t meet anyone’s stare. There are repercussions to what they’re doing.

“This is what we  _ all _ decided was best,” Clarke adds.

“So what? You’ll be the office gossip for a week if anyone overhears.” Anya leans back in her chair and sips her wine. “Then everyone will get distracted by the next horny assistant pulling the secretaries into the closet and the world will move on.”

Lexa lets go of Octavia’s hand and leans back meeting Anya’s impassive stare with one of her own. She isn’t backing down on this and she won’t let Anya throw her past decisions, however questionable they were, in her face. “You know it will be more than that. My future as a lawyer is based on my reputation.”

“Instead of hiding from it, why don’t you just embrace it?”

Tearing at the bread in her hands Lexa puts the pieces on her plate instead of eating them. She hadn’t even entertained the idea, not before she was working somewhere she could actually grow, and the district attorney's office was not that place. It was bad enough being the only out queer at work. Even after almost a year she still had a reputation, she heard the secretaries and the mail clerks talking, even if she never flirted with them anymore.

Until she found a new office she would continue to be the promiscuous lesbian lawyer. It wouldn’t matter that she was in a serious relationship. The details of her relationship would never be taken seriously, not with her history.

“It’s not like we can stay in the closet forever, Lexa,” Octavia pushes. Of the three of them she found the least reason to stay hidden. She hated not being able to show affection and it wasn’t like she was even the most affectionate of the three of them. The whole plan would blow up in their faces one day, or ruin them.

Clarke glances from Lexa to Anya and back, only shifting focus to Octavia for a moment. Octavia bites her lip and shrugs her shoulders, no help at all. Clarke sighs, they’ve talked about this. They aren’t ready for the potential backlash from strangers, not when they don’t know how their own families will react, or which of their friends will stand by them.

“It’s too much of a risk right now,” Lexa crosses her arms.

“What’s the risk? That they know you’re happy?” Anya raises her brow in a challenge.

Lexa deflates a little because Anya is right but so is she. They aren’t in a position to expose their relationship. What if they come out and then break up? That would almost be worse. Then again, losing her chance at a future because she forced them all into the closet would be unbearable.

“It isn’t time yet,” Clarke sets her wine glass down on the table firmly. She’s had about enough of this conversation. Lexa is clearly uncomfortable, and Octavia still doesn’t comprehend why they’ve made the decision they did, even as she complies with their agreement.

Anya purses her lips, but she drops the topic, “So what’s your plan to talk to your mother? You do have one, don’t you?”

“Dinner, next week” Clarke takes a sip of water and meets Anya’s stare, determined to not be deterred. “My mother is reasonable, and she already likes Lexa.” Clarke purses her lips, refusing to blink or look away. Anya holds her gaze, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. Clarke doesn’t want to let her win. As much as she wants her mother to approve of her relationship, she also wants Anya to respect her and Octavia. “I can’t have Lexa in my life and not have her be a part of my family, completely, whatever that means.”

There’s more to making this work between her and Octavia and Lexa than the three of them holding on to each other and holding each other up.

##  _______________________________________

 

“Lexa?” Octavia slows her pace as she walks into Lexa’s bedroom because Lexa is standing transfixed, staring at the wall, slight terror in her eyes, even though her expression is guarded.

Lexa is staring at a black spider crawling across the wall above her bed. There are few things that freeze her to the spot, make her incapable of moving or making a decision. If she’s alone it’s easier to deal with, but Octavia is home from work, now that they’re calling Lexa’s apartment home so they can all survive the heat wave. But Lexa would almost rather deal with the sweltering temperatures than the poisonous menace on her wall.

Her gaze flicks to Octavia for a split second who has finally figured out what has Lexa glued to the spot.

“You want me to deal with it?”

Lexa nods slowly.

Octavia chokes back a laugh, “Okay.” Lexa glares daggers at her and Octavia’s expression sobers. She reaches for a couple of tissues from the bedside table and quickly squishes the spider before wiping the remains off the wall and tossing it in the trash can.

“So does this mean I’m on spider duty in the new house?”

Lexa unfreezes and slowly starts to move again, “Absolutely.” She crosses to Octavia and presses a kiss to her cheek. “I don’t even want to know that they got into the house.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa doesn’t fail to notice the way Anya avoids disturbing her once she sits down at the baby grand piano in the corner of Anya’s living room. It’s the one that used to sit in their parents’ place. It’s the one she learned to play on. She tries not to think about how much Anya spent to have it moved into the apartment.

She trails her fingers across the ivory keys, feeling their cool weight but not moving them enough to produce noise. Years have passed since she played; it hasn’t been in her to, the music far away and muted. Had she started earlier she might have been one of those child prodigies, but no one thinks to give a little orphan girl piano lessons, no one tells the little kids without a real home that they can learn anything and be anything.

Her hands tremble as she thinks about what she’s about to do in a way that they haven’t since the first day their adopted parents sat her and Anya down side by side on the piano bench and told them they were taking lessons. Anya never took to it, her artistic talents lay elsewhere, but Lexa learned quickly she could play nearly anything by ear, just never ask her to read music. The notes and lines no more than chaos to her, symbols without meaning.

Stretching her fingers she places each one gently on a key, she does the same with her other hand, wrists loose. She sits, waiting for something to come to her, willing herself to remember what she used to play. Trying not to think about who she would play for, or why she might want to play now.

Their faces all flash through her head.

Her fingers travel over the keys and it’s like she’s never forgotten this feeling for a moment. Like it hasn’t been years since her fingers travelled this plane. Each crevice, each rise, an intimate familiarity. There’s a world of possibility underneath her fingertips and still she hesitates.

It’s the fear in her heart that still hasn’t let go. The one she thought had ruined her for all other relationships. Costia. How long will it be until her name no longer feels like a cursed prayer as it wraps its way around her tongue, the sound dying on chapped lips.

The first chord is a dissonant mess, ugly and intentional.

She doesn’t want it to be pretty. Doesn’t want the memory to taint the pleasure that she takes.

Anya lets out a squawk of surprise in the silence that follows, and Lexa holds her breath to keep from letting out a laugh. Their foster mother would shriek and shake her head each time one of them would lay into the keyboard.

_ A piano is not a percussion instrument, Lexa. _ She can’t remember her voice but she remembers the way she felt when she heard those words.

_ Oh, but it could be _ .

Lexa lets out a long, slow, steady, breath and presses the keys gently, a soft lilting melody drifting out of the piano slightly out of tune. Soft turns frantic turns soft again, and before too long Lexa has lost herself in a memory.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia sits on one side of the loveseat and Lexa on the other while they wait for Clarke and Abby to come back into the living room. Lexa’s spine is rigid and she’s more perched on the small couch than sitting on it as if she’s ready to spring up and run for the front door at any moment; Octavia doesn’t blame her, this night has been more stressful than the one where Clarke and Octavia told Abby they were together. She’s tempted to close the distance and try to calm Lexa down but they all agreed they would wait to reveal they were together.

Even though they hadn’t been hiding anything all night, helping each other off with their coats, small touches as they moved from room to room, reassuring smiles. Still, they were waiting for Clarke before they touched, before they comforted each other and tried to release the nerves that were building between them, tension so thick it was another presence in the room, awkward and elephant like.

Clarke comes back first, moving across the living room with purpose. She sits down between Lexa and Octavia thankful they had the wherewithal to sit on the loveseat and not the couch because that made it much easier to reach out for both of them at the same time, and that’s all she wants right now as she tries to find the right words. She had meant to bring up the discussion with her mother in the kitchen, but no matter what she said, she couldn’t seem to steer the conversation in that direction without blurting out their secret. They deserve more than a blunt tumble of words.

They haven’t told anyone else yet. Anya only knew because she had been somewhat witness to the disaster that was the way they came to be. No matter how quietly supportive she’s been they know not everyone will react, or fail to react, as she has.

“Are the three of you going to breathe anytime soon?” Abby leans back on the couch and meets Clarke’s eyes which are wide with surprise. She smiles gently, lazily swirling her glass of wine.

They’ve been alternately avoiding touching and acting like there’s nothing odd about their relationship, which has made for a stressful evening because at least once each of them has said something or done something to imply that they are more than friends. Now that they’re sat practically on top of each other it’s harder to keep from falling into familiar comforts. 

Clarke decides to stop fighting the impulse.

She reaches out for Octavia’s hand first, slowly threading their fingers together, and then does the same with Lexa. She meets Lexa’s eyes and gives her a small reassuring nod. She know her mother wants nothing but her to be happy and Clarke knows there’s nowhere else but between these two women that makes her happier. They’re good for each other and she doesn’t know if it’s even possible for Abby to not see how they fit into each others’ lives so seamlessly. Lexa makes her and Octavia better than they would ever be on their own.

She runs her thumb across Lexa’s knuckles as she finds herself lost in thought staring into Lexa’s green eyes. This is their moment. And she wants to turn to her mother and tell her how she’s in love, her heart full to bursting with it, how this past year has taught her that love is more than just a feeling, it’s a constant choice that starts the moment you realize the pain is worth having that person in your life. They aren’t all ready for that though, not after what they’ve only just been through with nearly losing Lexa. Until she hears the words spill from Lexa’s lips she’ll show her every day how she feels.

Tightening her grip on Octavia’s hand she brings Lexa’s to her lips, letting it linger there, feeling the soft skin with a chaste kiss. Lexa blushes and dips her head but her eyes never leave Clarke’s.

Octavia presses into Clarke’s side watching as Clarke and Lexa lose themselves in the moment. Watching them together gives her hope, even more than when that gaze is turned on her. She knows how they feel about her and how she fits in. She flicks her attention to Abby for a moment before pressing a kiss into Clarke’s shoulder; there’s no going back now. 

Abby sips at her wine to hide the smile on her face. “You three look very happy together,” she says softly. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth, mirroring that satisfied smirk Octavia has seen so many times on Clarke’s face. “I had wondered when you came over for dinner. I know I don’t know you well yet, Lexa, but you light up around them. And even when they’re trying to hide it, I can tell when my girls are in love.”

Somehow, impossibly, Lexa tenses further at the mention of the word love, squeezing Clarke’s hand so tight she might bruise it. At least for all of a moment. The tension doesn’t fade but Clarke feels it recede into Lexa, walls thrown up high, so their hands linked together are just that, intertwined fingers and a warm pulse, the comfort and strength is gone.

Octavia listens to Abby with wide eyed wonder, her heart aching with feeling loved. Abby’s been family for most of her life, she’s like a second mother, one that got to stick around. Being claimed, and noticed, and accepted by her is more than she ever thought she would find in a family.

“You’re okay with us being together?” Octavia fights to keep her voice even. She needs Abby to be okay with the choice they’ve made, because this is her home, where she belongs and to have a rift, to have it break apart, would destroy her. She switches which hand is holding Clarke’s and lays her arm across the back of the love seat until her fingers find the warm spot on Lexa’s neck just underneath her hairline. Lexa inhales sharply but doesn’t move away from the touch.

“Octavia, you know I love you dearly, despite everything, and you’ve always been there for Clarke, made her happy.”

Clarke wants to run her hands down Lexa’s face, stroke her back, anything to take away the tension she can feel in her girlfriend. Lexa’s hand in hers is still loose and she gives her hand a squeeze hoping the pressure at least it offers her a modicum of comfort. This is okay.

“You’re really okay with us… our relationship?” Clarke shakes, not realizing until the tension started draining from her that she was worried about her mother’s reaction. Not believing for a moment that her mother wouldn’t love her, no matter who she chose to be with. But Abby’s words about knowing when she’s in love, when Clarke is only just realizing how deeply she feels for Lexa cut deep. This is real.

“Lexa, sweetheart, take a breath before you pass out.”

Clarke feels Lexa nod, followed by an exhale of air. She turns her head and presses her lips to Lexa’s shoulder.

“You care for my girls?”

“Yes, Mrs. Griffin.”

“Abby.”

“Yes, Abby. I do.” Lexa looks to Clarke and Octavia and lets herself relax into their touch just slightly. She doesn’t know what she would have done if she had been the reason for problems between Clarke and her mother. Sometimes she wonders if she manages to bring anything but grief to them.

“Why do you all still look like there’s something else you haven’t told me?”

“We need to borrow money?” Octavia shrugs her shoulders apologetically and looks to Abby with hope written all over her face.

“Octavia!” Clarke and Lexa hiss in unison.

“What? We do, that’s why we’re here.”

Lexa watches as Clarke and Octavia start a staring contest, they’ve barely gotten through coming out to Abby, the words barely finished sounding and Octavia is already asking the next difficult question. She does know Abby better than Lexa does, but that doesn’t make this the right protocol. Lexa scoots forward on the couch and slips her hand from Clarke’s as she meets Abby’s surprised gaze.

“What Octavia is failing to say is that we’re looking to buy a larger place - a double bed is quite impractical for sleeping three, and neither of our apartments can really fit a larger bed.”

“We found a house actually.” Clarke chimes in, still staring Octavia down.

“And if I could convince these two to let me use my trust fund-”

Clarke whips her head to face Lexa, “-you’re not spending all your money on  _ our _ house.”

“So you want to spend my money on it?” Abby interrupts, but there's a small smile on her lips.

“We’ll pay you back! I just,” Clarke bites her lip and looks at Lexa. “I don’t want Lexa to feel like Octavia and I are with her for the wrong reasons.” She tilts her head to the side and her heart melts as she takes in Lexa’s carefully constructed walls come down. “We’re equal in this.”

##  _______________________________________

 

The only thing they were for certain on so far about the new house was that they were buying a new bed. 

“This is the one,” Octavia declares, flopping back onto one of the largest beds in the store, her knees bent at the edge, feet hovering just off the floor. Clarke and Lexa had been circling around the store poking at beds and not trying any of them out for forty-five minutes and Octavia is ready for them to just choose one and then they can finally get home and order dinner. This can’t be another house hunting ordeal, nine stores deep, circling around the same beds while strangers circle around them. She straightens her leg and stops Clarke from walking any further. “Lay down.”

Clarke grins and falls back onto the bed dramatically with her arms wide, letting herself bounce a few times before settling down. She digs her elbows into the mattress and shifts around, testing the bed for firmness. It feels like heaven compared to the small tiny bed she and Octavia have been sharing for the past three years, which had been hers since high school. “Lexa, you’ve got to lay down on this one.”

“I’m certain it’s adequate. It is highly rated.” Lexa turns the details card over in her hand, her back to the bed. She glances around the store at all the couples, hand in hand, leaning into each other, talking to each other about the place where they will spend a third of their lives, perhaps more. They are all different, varying levels of excitement and contentment and overall frustration with shopping, but mostly they’re all just… together.

She glances over her shoulder at Clarke and Octavia, laughing and sighing dramatically, content to stay on the bed, even for just a few minutes. If they were home she would fall between them without a thought, finding herself wrapped up in their arms. If it were only Clarke or Octavia she would lay down, test the bed out, because that would be safe. Instead she slides the details card back into it’s little plastic sheath and glances out the large floor to ceiling windows of the storefront as she waits.

The day is bright and sunny, and wonderful. Clarke’s laughter echoes behind her.

“Lexa?” Octavia asks and Lexa can hear the mischief in her voice a second before she feels the tug on her arm and she topples onto the bed in between her girlfriends.

Clarke lets out a gleeful shriek as she scoots out of the way and Lexa finds herself laughing as she hits the mattress. They aren’t quite close enough to touch, and there’s still plenty of room, and it’s comfortable, which is more than she can say for either of their beds these days. She turns her head, looking from Octavia’s hopeful wide eyes and half bitten lower lip to Clarke’s grin and infectious laughter. Lexa can feel the smile wide on her face and she knows that this is where she wants to be.

“You won’t know if you like it unless you scoot up onto it all the way.” A male voice interrupts and the three of the fall silent. “I’m Sinclair, and if you have any questions I’d be happy to help.”

Lexa starts to sit up and slide off the bed but before she can make it Clarke pulls her back.

“Come on, you’ll be spending enough time on here.” She knows they don’t want to really explain their relationship to a stranger, but also, this is going to be  _ their _ bed, they all have to like it. 

Octavia pats the center of the bed and Lexa nods slowly as she scoots up. It’s not like they could really avoid the implication that they were together, they’re buying a bed together afterall. She forces out a breath and lays back between her girlfriends trying to relax into the mattress, imagine what it would be like covered in cool sheets and with the proper pillows. What it will be like when they curl up at night, when they’re home.

Clarke’s hand slowly wraps around hers and she doesn’t pull away; she realizes she doesn’t want to have to pull away. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if the sales clerk assumed they were together. It’s nice laying her between them, laughing.

“This is absolutely the one,” Octavia moans as she sinks into the bed. If they could she’d demand they take it home tonight, but there’s no way they could get it into either of their apartments.

Bouncing experimentally, Clarke turns to face Lexa and Octavia, watching them as they taken in the bed. “What do you think, Lex?”

“It’s far better than your poor excuse for a mattress.” She grins, her nose wrinkling as she faces Clarke. She’s met with a protruding tongue and eyes full of mirth.

“This particular mattress is good for back support,” Sinclair adds. “Any of you have low back pain?”

Octavia points at Clarke, her hand brushing across Lexa’s breast. Lexa blushes and moves Octavia’s hand from it’s dangerous location. As much as this moment is nice, she doesn’t want to push it. She breathes out as Octavia moves her hand back to the safety of her part of the bed and Lexa finds herself relaxing. There’s something pleasant about this, listening to Octavia and Clarke as they lie here, discussing the bed, it’s so very domestic.

“I spend half my day hunched over in front of an easel.” Clarke offers up.

“This model is also reinforced through the center, so you would have solid support no matter where you slept. Do you usually sleep close together or spread out?”

Lexa’s grip on Clarke’s hand tightens and she doesn’t know if she wants to hold on or pull away. This is what they all discussed, keeping their relationship private when they were in public, and if they’re being this obvious they need to re-evaluate their approach. No more holding hands. Clarke tightens her own grip and Lexa glances at her. _ This is okay; it will be okay. _

“Well, I, spread out at night.” Octavia says with a laugh as she stretches out her arms and legs, practically shoving Lexa into Clarke’s arms.

Lexa stops herself with a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “We don’t actu-” Clarke squeezes her hand and Lexa meets her gaze, falling into the soft, reassuring, blue depths. This will be okay, she breathes out.

“If you decide to go with this one, I’d suggest one of our frames over just the box, and I could probably throw in some pillows if you decide to go that route.”

She’s only half listening to what Sinclair is saying, because the look on Clarke’s face is overwhelming. Lexa closes her eyes but she can still see it, pleading, wanting, and yet, holding back. As if Clarke wants to say something, as if she wants to lean forward and kiss her, but she knows they’re already in further than they should be. Lexa opens her eyes and Clarke is still there, but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth now.

Maybe Anya is right, maybe they’ll get through this, and it really won’t matter if people know about them. Maybe it will all work out. Not denying their relationship at a bed store is a far cry from coming out to their families or to their coworkers, but it’s something, and if nothing the sales associate is being incredibly discreet.

Lexa rolls over, letting go of Clarke’s hand and reaches for Octavia, nudging her in the shoulder. Octavia looks half asleep already as she lazily turns her head. “What do you think, O?”

“This is the one.”

Sitting up, Lexa slides off the bed with a firm nod of her head. “Show us the bedframes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with your reactions! I love hearing from you all.
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> **Also, I started[a new page](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) on my blog that organizes all the questions I've received about the fic! Headcanons and sneak peeks and everything.** Feel free to send me your own as well. I do my best to answer them all, in some way at least. And as always you can just check out [the tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic), for all things fic related.


	12. This Bed Is Too Small and Maybe The Apartment Too part 4 | 1 year 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What so many of you have been asking for... Raven is finally meeting the girls.

Raven glances around the living room, boxes stacked in front of book cases, a couch haphazardly in the center of it all, a new TV ready to be mounted. The room is open and bright and at least half the back wall must be glass, doors and windows looking out over a small, simple backyard with a single flowering cherry tree, and beyond out over the hill as it drops off to the city not far beyond. 

The house and the view are stunning but not half as stunning as the three girls that own it.

When she told Bellamy she’d come over and help his sister move into her new house this is the last thing she expected.

Raven watches the younger Blake as she leans over the back of the couch, back arched slightly as she stretches, her dark hair pulled back in mess of braids and bun, discussing with her brother where the TV should go. Raven didn’t plan to spend today sitting back and enjoying the view but everyone in this house is unfairly attractive, and most of the heavy lifting has already been done and she’s been assigned TV hanging duty, which is one of the main reasons why she’s here. The girls wanted someone who could actually figure out how to hang something on the wall of their new house without ruining it. 

Her gaze flits from Octavia to Bellamy and she realizes it’s been entirely too long since she’s been with anyone, especially someone that could handle her, injury and all. Raven tries to shove the thought from her head, it’s pointless to think like that about any of them. Bellamy is a colleague, even if he is a friend, and too full of himself to be good for more than a night or two of fun, and there’s no way she’s going after Octavia. Not when she’s practically common law married to her unfairly beautiful girlfriend,  _ and  _ on top of that she’s Bellamy’s little sister. And there’s Lincoln, and Lexa, and Anya, but everyone seems far more connected than is maybe sane to try to get involved with. The details are still a little fuzzy.

And really, it hasn’t been that long since she broke up with Wick. It’s been two months, but there’s no way she’s going back to him because that ended up being a disaster from the start.

“Are you sure you want the TV on this wall?”

“Yes, Bellamy-” Octavia starts.

“Have you asked Clarke?”

Octavia rolls her eyes and pushes up off the couch. They had spent the better part of two evenings going through every shared room in the house and deciding exactly what would go where. “ _ And _ Lexa. It goes there.”

“She’s right you know,” Raven leans back into the couch, her grin cocky. “That’s the only place in the room there won’t be glare from the sun.”

“See,” Octavia gestures to Raven. “Your genius friend agrees. I like her.”

“Don’t encourage her,” Bellamy looks from Raven to Octavia and back and Raven isn’t quite sure which one of them he’s addressing but something tells her he probably doesn’t know himself. 

Octavia winks at Raven as she walks past her and Raven grins; she definitely wouldn’t mind hanging out with Octavia again. The younger Blake sibling seems much more relaxed than her older brother.

“Now that that's settled, you do know how to find a stud, right?” Raven asks shooting a pointed look at Bellamy.

“Nope, that's what you're here for.” 

“That’s me. Finder of studs.” Raven cants her head to the side with a smirk. “Why don’t you go grab Lincoln and the tools.” She pushes up off the couch reluctantly, her leg protesting. “I’ll figure this out,” she gestures to the wall. Hanging up a flat screen properly is something she could do in her sleep, it’s easy, but she wants to do it right. Her one mission today is to earn the beer that she’s been promised and making sure Bellamy doesn’t break his sister’s new TV will do just that. 

She glances over her shoulder at Octavia and Lexa, and wonders where Clarke has gotten to. Shaking her head she tries to clear the thoughts before they form. Now is no time to be thinking about attraction and feelings, even if Lexa might be available... It all leads to heartache in the end anyway. And she needs time to herself after her last relationship.

Octavia slips behind Lexa, catching her attention as she moves to the kitchen. They shift around each other and Raven can’t quite make out what they’re saying, because she’s too caught up in how attractive Lexa is when she smiles. The way Lexa lights up when Octavia talks to her, the soft lilt in her voice which is normally so reserved. The quiet laugh and the lightness it carries even though this is the end of the second day of moving and all of them are exhausted.

Raven lets out a long sigh and turns back to the wall, pulling out a measuring tape and a pencil. Every sixteen inches there’s a stud, she marks them off, light marks on the wall, but her thoughts are on the other women. There’s something about the way the three of them move together, weaving around each other, like an intricate series of cogs and gears that fit together in a complex bit of machinery that sings when wound. It’s more than friendship, and Raven wonders if they’re merely close or if there’s something greater there. Her heart aches at the thought of that much love.

If Bellamy’s gossip is true, Lexa is up for just about anything. Or, she used to be. Raven shakes her head and turns back to the wall. It really is none of her business, and since when has Bellamy been a reliable source of anything?

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke drops the box next to the dryer, arms and back protesting. They’ve been moving boxes for two days now and she’s completely over it. It didn’t seem like such a bad plan when they laid it out. The first day they would move everything over from Clarke and Octavia’s apartment since some of their new furniture had already arrived at the house, and then the next day they would finish up with Lexa’s apartment.

Brilliant plan.

Easy.

Clarke grumbles, leaning against the washer/dryer stack as she tries to stretch out her upper back which seems to have seized up. The muscles are screaming worse than they do when she sits at her easel too long, and that can lay her up for days. She digs her fingers into knots she can already feel forming but it does little to release the tension. What she needs is one of her girls to work on her back, but they don’t have time for that right now, there’s still another truck of boxes on the way. If she never has to carry another box out of that truck she’ll be so very happy.

Clarke rubs at her face, missing Lexa joining her in the washroom.

“I texted Anya about pizza. She said she and Raven would make a run for dinner after they finished emptying my apartment.” Lexa leans next to Clarke. “You alright there?”

“Just sore,” Clarke slides into Lexa, letting the her girlfriend take her weight. “Why didn’t we hire movers like you wanted to?”

Lexa runs her fingers through Clarke’s hair, scratching gently at her scalp trying to coax her into standing again and failing. She sighs and nudges at Clarke who only gives Lexa more of her weight. It brings a smile to her lips, because even though they’ve been together for nearly a year now there’s something about Clarke and Octavia being her’s that will always seem new and wonderful. “Someone was very adamant about not asking for any more money from their mother or letting me dip into the trust fund money again.”

“That money is yours,” Clarke mumbles the words against Lexa’s shoulder.

Lexa lets out a raspy laugh, “Yes, and I’m not fond of carrying boxes.”

“Sorry.”

“I’m sure you will find a way to make it up to me.”

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa, her fingertips skirting along the line of skin exposed where Lexa’s muscle shirt has ridden up and her jeans have drifted down. She likes Lexa like this, relaxed and warm, not that she doesn’t appreciate the power suits, because she does, but not many people get to see Lexa like this. It feels like a privilege, a gift. She presses a kiss to Lexa’s collarbone nipping at the soft skin with her lips.

She kisses her way up Lexa’s neck, her hands sliding up her back and pressing Lexa close. “I can think of a few ways,” she whispers in Lexa’s ear.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do that until everyone else went home.” Lexa drops her head back giving Clarke better access to her neck. She doesn’t exactly want to get caught and accidentally out them but with Clarke’s mouth on her their friends and family finding out doesn’t really seem like the worst thing that could happen. Still, they decided they weren’t telling anyone else yet.

Lexa puts her hands on Clarke’s hips and pushes her back, “Be good.”

Clarke pouts but there’s a mischief to it. “If you insist.” Her hands come to rest on Lexa’s hip bones, holding the distance between them. “Work a bit on my neck though?”

With a dramatic roll of her eyes Lexa moves her hands to Clarke’s shoulders and starts feeling for tension and knots, working on the sore muscles there. She glances over her shoulder at the open door and hopes that no one has seen them, no one that doesn’t already know about exactly what her relationship with Clarke and Octavia entails, and that she won’t really be staying in the spare bedroom, it’s just a ruse until they can unpack properly. They don’t need the stress of someone finding them out and causing a stir by bringing up the idea that one of them is having an affair. There had been enough drama around that when the three of them started to get together. 

It worked out, after a fashion, and she really wants things to stay like they are.

Clarke bites her lip trying to hold back a moan as Lexa’s fingers dig into the sore muscles of her neck, “Fuck, Lex.”

“Too much?”

“No don’t stop.” Clarke whimpers. “Your fingers are magic. I mean, I already knew that, but they really are.”

Lexa shoves Clarke playfully in the shoulder and leans forward to capture her lips in a messy kiss. Her hands never stop working on the knot underneath her fingertips though, drawing another moan from Clarke; this one is unrestrained and she swallows it down. Lexa leans her forehead against Clarke’s, taking a slow deep breath, trying to calm the twist of want starting up between her legs and winding it’s way up.

“I thought you said you were going to be good.”

“It’s hard to be good with your hands on me,” Clarke’s voice is breathy and she slips her hands under the hem of Lexa’s shirt.

“We should go help with the unloading.” Lexa nods, trying to persuade herself to step back from Clarke. “Besides, Octavia will be sorely disappointed if we christen the house without her.”

“Yeah, it’ll be more fun with her here, and besides, our new bed still needs breaking in.” Clarke tugs on Lexa’s belt loops bringing them crashing together for one more kiss.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven follows Anya into Lexa’s apartment. It’s empty and cavernous and so much bigger without the furniture in it. She’s fairly certain they thoroughly emptied it earlier, but this the last sweep, just in case. Making her way across the living room she looks out the windows and over downtown. It’s beautiful and quiet from up here. The city seems peaceful.

It’s the first moment of quiet all day, just the two of them. She’s enjoyed the quiet wittiness of the older Woods girl. It’s a breath of fresh air from all the masculinity she’s normally surrounded by between Bellamy and Jasper and Monty. Not that they all don’t have a special place in her heart… but sometimes it’s nice to appreciate the quiet snark of someone who is clearly going to be a new friend if they can survive moving day together.

Anya bumps her shoulder against Raven’s.

“I can’t believe she’s giving up this view,” Raven whispers.

“People have done stranger things when they realize they prefer a different way of looking at the world.” Anya shrugs and leans against one of thin beams between the windows looking Raven up and down. “I do have to say that the view isn’t the prettiest thing in the room.” She raises an eyebrow and leans closer to Raven. There’s laughter in her dark eyes, inviting and warm, and a smile plays on her perfectly lipsticked mouth.

Raven finds herself drawn in, wondering if anyone would have the power to resist an offer from Anya, and realizing that she needs to find it in herself. As pretty as Anya is there’s a panicked flighty feeling fluttering in Raven’s chest when she thinks about being intimate with anyone. Even the idea allowing herself to kiss someone makes her want to run. After everything that happened with Wick she’s afraid to allow anyone to have that power over her again. Afraid of the way that someone might look at her when she’s at her most vulnerable, like she’s any less than them.

She presses a hand to Anya’s shoulder and holds a safe distance between them. “I’m just - I broke up with my ex two months ago and I’m not ready for anything yet.” Half truths to keep herself from trembling. Raven looks down unable to hold Anya’s gaze any longer.

“Sounds like you could use the distraction… unless you still want them back?”

Raven looks up at Anya, mildly horrified. “Definitely not.”

“Alright then, shall we finish poking our heads in closets and make sure my lil sis didn’t forget something?” She turns and starts to cross over towards what had been Lexa’s room.

“Just like that?”

Anya turns back, “Like what, little bird?” she says with a laugh as if she knows exactly what Raven is asking.

“You’re cool with me turning you down?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re hot, but if you’re not down, you’re not down.” Anya takes two steps back and kisses Raven on the cheek. “Doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind later, but something tells me you won’t.” Anya winks and drags her finger along the underside of Raven’s chin as she walks away again.

Raven watches her go, confused and vaguely turned on.

“Besides, I think you’ll be much more entertaining to keep around.”

Raven laughs, “Is that your way of saying you want to be friends?”

Anya makes a noncommittal sound that might have been a grunt but might have been a laugh. Raven shakes her head and turns back to the empty apartment and scouring it for unpacked belongings. When she agreed to help Bellamy with moving his sister into her new house this is the last thing she expected.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa watches Clarke as she slides back out into the hallway a small smile on her lips. This is home.

She’s only alone for a few moments, long enough to rearrange her shirt and collect her thoughts, but nothing more. Bellamy slips into the utility room and there’s something in the look on his face that makes Lexa stand a little taller. She uncrosses her arms as he shuts the door behind him.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Lexa?” His voice is low and even, but there’s an edge to it. She doesn’t know Bellamy well, only that he’s fiercely protective of Octavia, though she can’t imagine for the life of her that anyone actually thinks Octavia needs protecting. From the furrow between his brow and the thin line of his lips pressed together Lexa can only assume he saw her and Clarke kissing.

She’s not about to admit to it in case he’s got some other problem with her.

Lexa turns back to the boxes on the washer behind her and opens one up, “Sorting out where these boxes go. My sister isn’t adept at labelling things as she packs.”

All of the air has drained from the room as Lexa waits for Bellamy to say something, anything. 

“I swear if you’re fucking around with Clarke and you hurt Octavia-”

Lexa drops the laundry soap onto the washer, it crashes and echoes. She clenches her jaw and turns to face him. “Why would I want either of them hurt?”

He’s in her space, leaning over her but Lexa doesn’t step back. She tilts her chin up to hold his gaze and squares her shoulders, not about to be intimidated by someone over her relationship. Octavia has her reasons for not coming out to Bellamy yet and Lexa is starting to understand why.

“You and Clarke were in here-”

Lexa presses a hand against Bellamy’s chest, pushing him back. “-we do both live here.”

“I’ve known Clarke a long time, I saw the look on her face when she came out of here.” Bellamy catches Lexa’s wrist in his hand and twists her arm. 

“I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.” Lexa wrenches her arm out of his grasp, and fixes him with a glare, the one she uses to stare down hardened criminals in court. There’s nothing kind in her look and if Bellamy were anyone other than her girlfriend’s brother she would be fighting back with more than just her attitude. She feels off balance because there’s something terrifying in Bellamy’s anger that has nothing to do with nearly being caught.

“If you hurt my sister, I will come after you.”

Lexa raises her gaze from her wrist to Bellamy and stares at him silently, knowing there’s only a slight chance her two terms of judo in college are anywhere to be found in her body. She won’t let him see the fear she feels, or hint at the worry she has. She and Octavia and Clarke will have to talk later about this, when and how exactly they tell him. 

He holds her gaze and there’s thinly veiled anger in the look he gives her. Lexa knows she can stand there, unblinking, waiting for him to break for longer than he can hold out, that much she has. This is what she trains for, intimidation. This is her element. Until he throws something at her she can’t refute she can claim a thousand layers of plausible deniability.

His angry huff and the door crashing against the wall as he throws it open make Lexa’s heart stop. She clenches her hands into fists to keep them from trembling and to keep the tears from falling. The fear that her world could so easily crumble.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia drops the box she’s carrying in the kitchen. They’re nearly done, only a handful of boxes left to move in, plus whatever Anya and Raven bring back from the final sweep of the two vacated apartments. She never wants to have to move into a new house again and they haven’t even begun the unpacking process. This house is going to be so worth it though, living with Clarke  _ and _ Lexa is going to be worth it. She stretches her arms overhead to ease the tension in her back and catches sight of Lexa standing in the backyard through the sliding glass doors.

A large wooden deck is tucked between the U shape of the house, a green lawn spreading out beyond, just large enough to play in and plant a garden. There’s a large blossoming cherry tree begging for a hammock and she can’t wait to spend summer nights laying out under the stars with Clarke and Lexa. They have to make it through moving in first though.

Lexa’s arms are crossed and she’s facing away from the house. The slope of her shoulders is defeated. It isn’t what Octavia was expecting to see, because, aside from having to carry half a million boxes, these last few days have been pretty much perfect.

She slips out the sliding door and just makes out the sharp inhale of breath before Lexa straightens up. Octavia crosses the deck slowly, her footfalls echoing softly on the raised wood. The air is still warm, but the heat from the summer sun is fading. Still, Octavia finds herself wrapping her arms around her stomach to keep from reaching out to Lexa and chase away the sudden chill that runs up her spine. She stops, bumping her shoulder against Lexa’s.

“Not having second thoughts?” She smiles and bites her lip. They’ve been over this and she honestly thinks that the last thing Lexa wants is to back out now, but there’s a spike of worry in the back of her mind because maybe her own happiness is clouding reality again. She doesn’t want to make the same mistakes with Lexa that she made with Clarke.

Lexa wipes hastily at her eyes even though only a few tears have fallen. It hadn’t been her intent to come out here and cry, but she needed a moment to breathe and suddenly the utility closet had felt suffocating after Bellamy left. Her face feels sticky with the tears and she inhales again sharply trying to push back her emotions and breathe. Moving in with Clarke and Octavia is as terrifying as it is exciting, but she has them and it will all be okay. She had thought it would be anyway. She swallows down the rising anger. “Of course not, O,” Lexa says softly. She bumps her shoulder against Octavia’s. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

Octavia stretches out her fingers, not quite holding onto Lexa’s arm, but brushing her fingertips against it. Right now it’s all she can do, there are too many people in their house that don’t know about them. Lexa mimics Octavia’s gesture so their fingers overlap.

“Bellamy thinks I’m having an affair with Clarke.”

“Well, you are sleeping with her.” Octavia’s grin is infectious.

The small smile on Lexa’s lips falters and she dips her head looking away from Octavia. Her fingers curl back so they’re no longer touching. What Bellamy said, what he did, crawls under her skin, thin white hot anger. “He’s… protective.”

“Who’s protective?” Clarke calls as she steps out onto the back porch.

Octavia spins and takes a step toward Clarke. Lexa turns more slowly, pushing back tears with an unsteady hand. Now is not the time for crying, not when she has to find a way to explain what Bellamy did without causing a rift between Octavia and her brother. She steels her breath.

The three of them meet somewhere in the middle of the porch, not quite in view of the back door.

“Bellamy said something to Lexa.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and Octavia returns the look.

“What? He  _ is _ protective, O.” She turns to Lexa and her voice softens, as she notices the glossiness of Lexa’s eyes. “What did he do?”

Lexa forces her arms to stay by her sides, hands clenching and unclenching. Still, she doesn’t meet Clarke’s gaze or Octavia’s. “Nothing, yet.” She hates this feeling of fear, not of Bellamy, but of what strain her presence might put on Octavia’s relationship with him. It’s angry, bitter bile at the back of her throat that she has to swallow down. Not being open about their relationship is difficult because this wouldn’t be happening if he knew, but telling him might make the situation worse. Still, this feeling that somehow she’s done something wrong by falling in love is far more painful than anything Bellamy could do to her.

There are too many emotions running through her and she has to make them stop so they can deal with this.

Clarke takes a step forward into Lexa’s space and reaches up to gently cup her hand against Lexa’s cheek. Her eyes are searching as she meets Lexa’s gaze, raw with pain and anger. Clarke may have been joking with Octavia about how protective Bellamy can be but he has, in the past, been too protective. Her free hand twitches involuntarily to brush across her eyebrow.

“What did he say?” Clarke’s hands wind their way around Lexa’s waist and she tugs her closer.

Lexa sighs and let’s Clarke pull her a single step closer, even so she glances over to the sliding glass doors to make sure no one is watching them. The last thing she wants is a repeat of the laundry room. If Bellamy talks to her again tonight she doesn’t know if she can be as civil as she was the first time.

“He insinuated that you and I are sleeping together, which, while not untrue, is none of his business. He then proceeded to threaten, if I were to ever be the reason for breaking Octavia’s heart, that he would come after me,” Lexa’s voice is cold and even, her jaw clenching tight as she finishes.

Octavia’s voice is low and harsh, “You have every right to be here, this is your home.”

“Octavia, it’s-” Lexa stops, she’s about to say  _ it’s fine _ , but it isn’t. Bellamy’s anger, however well meaning, is startling and she doesn’t want him around her or Octavia if this is how he is.

“It isn’t okay.” Octavia takes a step forward and kisses Lexa without preamble, one hand tangling tightly in Lexa’s hair, the other resting on the small of Clarke’s back. “You’re my girlfriend, too, and even if he doesn’t know that I’m not letting him upset you like this.”

Just as quickly as she moved forward she turns and leaves.

Clarke and Lexa watch Octavia storm back into the house, heading full tilt for her brother with vengeance on her breath. She slams the sliding glass door so hard behind her it bounces open. Lexa winces and wraps her arms tighter around Clarke. The sun is nearly beneath the horizon and the first few tendrils of cool air are mingling in the summer night. The tension between her shoulder blades eases a little with the affirmation. She isn’t on the outside of this relationship, but firmly in the middle of it.

They should all be side by side in this, a united front. She doesn’t trust Bellamy.

“Do we need to?” Lexa tilts her head toward the house, half indicating they should follow, half listening for raised voices or something crashing to the ground.

Clarke shakes her head, “Octavia can take care of Bellamy… and even if he’s angry he’d never hurt her.” The last few words come out barely more than a whisper and Clarke wishes she hadn’t brought that up because fear flashes in Lexa’s bright green eyes and Clarke can feel her start to pull back and follow Octavia into the house, muscles already tense.

There’s a trembling angry note in Lexa’s voice, “Clarke?”

Clarke holds Lexa’s gaze and swallows. There’s no point in not telling her the truth. She taps her index finger to her eyebrow and the thin crooked scar cutting through it. Lexa brushes her thumb across Clarke’s brow as if she’s just noticing the scar there, realizing what it means, how it dips dangerously close to the hollow of Clarke’s eye. 

She cups Clarke’s cheek in her hand, her voice hard. “What happened?”

“I kissed Octavia.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia storms through the house, and out to the front yard where Bellamy is unloading the last of the boxes from the moving truck as if nothing happened. Her heart feels ready to burst. She wants to yell at Bellamy for threatening another person she loves, for hurting them, even if he didn't put Lexa in the emergency room, he threatened to. She loves him, he's her family, but she doesn’t know if she can forgive him for this. He can't keep attacking everyone who looks her way. This may be his last chance. It doesn't matter that she can't tell him she's as desperately in love with Lexa as she is with Clarke.

“What the hell, Bellamy?” She throws the words like daggers.

He sets down the box and smiles at her with a roll of his eyes, “Usually someone says ‘thank you’ when someone spends their weekend schlepping boxes for them.”

Octavia crosses her arms and glares up at her brother. His smile could charm the panties off a nun, but Octavia is immune to it. Sibling privilege.

“You can't just go around threatening my friends, Bellamy.”

Octavia watches as Bellamy’s cockiness falters. His smile vanishes and he straightens up, mimicking Octavia’s crossed arms and narrowed eyes. He lets out a long breath and curses, before glancing back at the house. His voice is low, “Clarke is cheating on you, O.”

“No, she isn’t.” All she has to do is stick to the truth without explaining. She can keep their secret. Taking in a deep breath she buries the words  _ girlfriend  _ and  _ love _ down deep in her chest where they can’t escape.

“I didn’t want to tell you like this.” He pauses and takes a step forward, reaching out for Octavia. “It’s just not right what she’s doing, you just bought a house together.”

She steps just out of his reach and shakes her head. “Clarke isn’t cheating on me, Bellamy.”

“I saw-”

“What exactly did you see?” Octavia snaps. No matter what he saw, it's none of his business.

“Clarke had that look on her face, and she was coming out of the utility closet -  _ Lexa _ was in there.” He runs a hand through his hair, “She apparently has a thing for getting girls into closets with her.”

“I didn’t take you for a gossip.”

Bellamy takes another step towards Octavia but she stares him down. They’ve had this fight one too many times, and all the bruises and scars and threats are a rift between them that has grown too big to ignore. It’s an insidious thought that’s been growing for years: she doesn’t deserve this. 

Lexa and Clarke deserve better.

“It isn’t gossip, O-”

“Yes it is!” Octavia turns to leave. The one thing that will shut Bellamy up about Clarke having an affair is the one thing she can’t say. “You’re sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, again, and you’re not listening to me. I trust Clarke, I trust Lexa.”

“Listen, Gina works with Lexa and-”

Octavia stops walking and breathes out anger, “Who the fuck is Gina?”

“Just this girl th-”

“You’re going to take the word of some random girl. Over mine?” Octavia stretches her jaw to the side, teeth grinding. She breathes out the word like a threat, “Leave.”

She doesn’t stay to watch him go.

Bellamy moves to pick up the boxes he set down, a scowl creasing lines on his face; he grabs Octavia’s arm and spins her around. She’s barely turned when she wrenches her arm from his grasp and she pushes the part of her that wants to turn into a trembling child again down. She’s a police officer, and if she can’t protect her own family how can anyone expect her to be able to protect theirs.

“Don’t do this, Bellamy.”

“I’m protecting you.”

“No, you aren’t.” Octavia presses forward causing him to stumble backwards. “You can’t come into my house and threaten people. I could press charges.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll call Lincoln back, have him arrest you, if you don’t leave right now.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

Bellamy walks backwards a few steps, nearly tripping over the box he set down before turning and heading to his car, and Octavia watches him go her heart sinking in her chest. He’s her brother, her family, he raised her, and he’s the last person she trusts with her life.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa wraps her arms tighter around Octavia as she shifts position on the couch, trying to keep her leg from falling asleep any further, what with both Octavia’s and Clarke’s weight pressing into her it’s already going numb and tingly. She reaches out, fingers wrapping around pale yellow curls, and some of the tension ekes out of her body. For a little while they’re alone. For a little while it’s safe.

The quiet settles around them.

Bellamy is gone, but Lexa is certain they haven’t finished that particular fight. Octavia is too quiet, and Clarke feels too protective. He left his mark on them tonight and Lexa wants to make him pay but she’s afraid that would hurt Octavia more than him. Lexa has a feeling they’ve been down this path before, and that ended in blood and stitches. Her anger has faded but in its place is a deep rooted mistrust of the older Blake sibling. She’d be content with never having to deal with Bellamy again.

“We’re home,” Clarke lifts her head from Octavia’s stomach and smiles up at her girlfriends. Her smile has a soft mischievous edge to it as she crawls up kissing Octavia, then Lexa. She could get used to this. They all could.

The front door swings open with a click and the sound of laughter spills into the living room accompanied by the clink of glass and the smell of pizza.

Clarke bolts up scooting to the far end of the couch, wishing for the day that she doesn’t have to and they can all just be together in their own home without worrying about which friend is walking through the front door. Lexa nudges Octavia and she rolls to the floor with a soft thump, coming to rest with her back against a stack of boxes. She lets out an exasperated sigh and clenches her jaw. After everything that happened in the past few hours she doesn’t want to be like this, sitting alone on the floor, unable to be with her girlfriends in their own house. Anya already knows and Raven doesn’t seem like she would care.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing if someone else knew, someone they could trust.

“We’ve returned with sustenance,” Raven calls out as she walks in, heading straight for the kitchen, several cases of beer in hand.

“She insisted on pizza and beer because,  _ it’s moving day tradition _ .” Anya rolls her eyes at Raven.

“Hey, you gotta be able to indulge every once in a while or it isn’t worth it.”

Lexa offers Octavia a small smile; it’s only going to be a little while longer and then they can relax for the night. She rubs at her thigh as sensation returns to it in the form of pins and needles, blood flowing through it once more followed by a rush of cold. 

“I managed to talk her into the good pizza place at least,” Anya follows Raven into the kitchen carrying several boxes of pizza from the little hole in the wall downtown that actually has a stone fireplace in the back. “Where did all the help go?”

“Bellamy had to leave. Lincoln took Abby home.” Clarke slips off the couch starts digging through boxes marked  _ kitchen _ for paper towels. “Niylah had to deal with something at the bar, said she’d be around to help us unpack this week.”

“I thought you were cleaning out our apartments?” Lexa asks as she pushes up from the couch and weaves through the boxes and furniture towards her sister and Raven. 

“There’s a few things in the car,” Anya waves a hand dismissively as she she reaches across the island in the kitchen for a beer. “Bottle opener?”

Raven unhooks her keys from her belt and hands them over.

Clarke grabs a beer and hands it to Anya to open, when she takes it she hands her another until everyone has a cold bottle in their hand. Octavia mumbles thank you around a mouthful of pizza as she leans into Clarke’s side. There’s a slight tremor deep inside her and Octavia feels like it will erupt out of her in a wave of pain and tears if she doesn’t stay close to either Clarke or Lexa. She never imagined standing up to her brother would leave her so weak.

“Is that everything then? Are we officially moved in?” Clarke grins. She slips her hand to Octavia’s waist and gives her a light squeeze before gently pushing at her to take a step away. As much as she wants to be wrapped around her right now they shouldn't. She doesn’t want to see the edge of sadness in Lexa’s eyes when she and Octavia get to touch, and they can’t reach out for her. It’s easier to let the relationship be ambiguous. When they can't even tell Bellamy that they are together it feels wrong to let his friend in on the secret, even if Raven seems trustworthy.

“I think we are,” Lexa smiles at Clarke, it's small and guarded but real. She reaches out the bottle of beer in her hand to cheers with everyone else, not failing to notice the delayed excitement from Octavia or the way she avoids eye contact. For a moment she wishes she would have taken her chances against Bellamy and hit him, anything to make up for the shadows haunting her girlfriend’s eyes. A protective rage swells up inside her again and Lexa slides closer to Octavia, close enough that their hips bump together. This at least earns her a small reprieve from the air of sadness surrounding Octavia as she smiles at her, a hundred words passing between them without a sound.

Lexa breaks eye contact first and blushes when she meets Anya’s gaze, questioning and amused. It's hard to keep to themselves when emotions are running high.

Before too long they've made their way through both pizzas and most of the beer, finding themselves settled on the floor, propped up between boxes and each other. After the stress of moving and of the fight with Bellamy this is the kind of calm they need.

“There is perfectly good furniture not 10 feet away.” Anya gestures with her half empty bottle of beer toward the couches. “Why are we on the floor,”

“Because it's so far away,”  Clarke sticks out her tongue at Anya.

“And covered in boxes.” Raven interjects.

“I'm not moving any more boxes today.” Octavia leans back against a stack of boxes and lets herself slide into Lexa. She leans her head on Lexa’s shoulder and breathes out a sigh of relief when Lexa lets her stay.

“See, plenty of valid reasons we're on the floor. I mean if you're too old and can't han-”

Anya shoots Lexa a death glare and throws a balled up napkin at her.

Clarke snorts and tries to cover up her amusement in a sip of beer, but it doesn't work because soon they're all laughing. Maybe it's just the exhaustion getting to them, or maybe this really is the start of something new. Something better, because they're together. She uses the laughter as an excuse to scoot closer to Octavia and Lexa, leaning back against the same stack of boxes.

Octavia cautiously lets her hand fall next to Clarke’s, their fingers brushing.

As the laughter dies down, Anya glances up from her beer, and meets Lexa’s eyes. “It’s good to see you happy, again.”

Raven watches the exchange unfold. The soft nod from Lexa, The way Octavia glances at Clarke for half a second before lifting her head from Lexa’s shoulder, looking for a moment like she might kiss her before breaking out in a grin. The gentle smile from Clarke and the way her eyes shine like she's looking at her world. Raven wonders how she didn't see it earlier, that they are so clearly in love, and she wonders how they have managed to hide something so deep and profoundly beautiful, when it makes them glow. Even after a long weekend of hard work they're unbreakable.

And she wonders if she’ll ever find anyone that looks at her the way they look at each other, with trust and adoration, so completely in love the intensity of it is as blinding as the sun. She wonders if she’ll ever be enough again to deserve a love like that.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke leans back on the couch, tossing a cushion to the floor as she stretches and tries to avoid spilling the beer in her hand. It must be nearing midnight, if not already, and she can't say she's entirely unhappy to watch Anya and Raven leave with promises to return throughout the week to help with unpacking. Well, possibly just dinner. Even so, Clarke isn't one to pass up on food.

She closes her eyes and sets the beer bottle on the floor, tossing her arm across her eyes. The weight on the couch shifts and she feels Octavia press down on top of her, a quick brush of lips against lips before her girlfriend rolls to the side, wedging herself between the couch and Clarke. “Alone at last,” she whispers.

Clarke smiles and turns her head to kiss Octavia again, her hand sliding around Octavia’s waist, Octavia mirroring her actions. Even if the three of them had sat leaning together shoulder to shoulder, pressed hip to hip, it wasn’t this. It could never even be comfortable like this. Not yet. Not when they’re afraid of the repercussions and who they might lose. She sighs and smiles into the kiss as Octavia slips her hand under Clarke’s shirt, shivering at her touch.

For eight years she’s been coming home to Octavia, collapsing onto their couch at the end of the day, and even in these last three years when they’ve been together it hasn’t been like this. There’s a sense of forever in tonight. Lexa is with them now, so intrinsically a part of what they are it will always be different.

They only pull apart when they hear the front door shut and lock, Lexa slipping back inside from saying goodnight to her sister. Clarke traces her finger along Octavia’s jaw and she wonders how life finally feels like it’s working out. 

“Where do I fit in?” Lexa bites her bottom lip, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. Looking down at her girlfriends, the house empty, knowing she can just be with them,  _ alone _ , in  _ their _ house, emotion swells inside her and she takes a deep breath, trying to keep the words on her tongue inside her mouth. 

Clarke holds out her hand and Lexa kneels on the edge of the couch.

She can feel the words just behind her lips, burning her tongue. Tonight is too soon, the move leaving them exhausted and emotionally raw in the wake of the fight with Bellamy. They’re just now on steady ground, together in this, and Lexa doesn’t want a single thing to change. Her fingers twine with Clarke’s and she brushes her thumb across the palm of Clarke’s hand, heart feeling like it might burst.

“Lexa?” Octavia’s voice is soft and raspy from a long day. “What is it?”

She breathes in and time freezes because she can feel the words escaping from trembling lips before she can stop them. Words she hasn’t said in six years. There’s been no one that deserved them and now she’s in awe at the depth of her own feeling. She reaches for Octavia with her free hand and her heart is beating so hard she can barely hear her own voice. “I love you.”

The words wash over them and for a moment the only sound is their breathing, echoing against the empty walls of their living room. It’s a soft whisper of a sound, caressing them, softly working its way inside and warming their aching hearts.

Clarke tugs Lexa down catching her waist as she comes tumbling forward. Lexa is soft and hesitant, her arms trembling as she hovers over Clarke. She pulls her down, whispering words of love and promise against Lexa’s lips. When she promised Octavia they could try she never imagined her heart could hold this kind of love for another, but she’s astounded by its elasticity as it stretches to encompass the woman in her arms.

This is what a promise held feels like.

Octavia wraps her arm around Lexa pulling her more firmly on top of both of them as they trade off kisses and touches. Her hand finds Lexa’s and their fingers entertwine. The tender ache in her heart lightens. At the end of the day, she has her family, and she is loved, and it’s enough.

##  _______________________________________

  
  


Lexa wakes slowly, a mane of pale yellow curls in her face. Through the hair she can just make out the sunlight coming in the bay of windows in their room.  _ Their room _ . A smile curls at the corner of her mouth and she wraps her arm more firmly around Clarke underneath the covers, her hand pressing flat against soft bare skin. Octavia shifts behind her, curling tighter against her back in her sleep so they’re shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip.

Her body aches with the feelings she’s trying to contain and everything that has happened. A tenderness blossoms in her chest, hope where there hasn't been for years warms her and in this quiet moment their future feels real. Clarke’s hair smells of lavender and she thinks that it may be her favorite smell and the way Octavia’s skin feels against hers is her favorite feeling. Nothing hurts and everything is soft.

Most of all she feels loved.

Her heart is healing, and if she touches the edges she can still feel the fear buried deep down, the pain that Costia left her with that she let grow until it took over her life. She built up her walls around that pain, keeping it in and keeping everything else out. Lexa dusts her fingertips across Clarke’s arm, tracing abstract patterns and memorizing the feeling of her skin. Her fingers flit over the tattoo peeking out from under Clarke’s arm, the edges of the ink marked on her ribs, a small butterfly for Octavia that Clarke had drawn herself. There’s a sunflower too, for Clarke, to remind herself that she’s important as well. Lexa runs the edge of her thumbnail over a butterfly wing and tries not to think about the sketch Clarke has been working on, a third tattoo that fits with the others, one symbolizing Lexa. She takes in a breath and closes her eyes feeling the rise and fall of Clarke against her front and Octavia against her back, and lets herself just be. 

They haven’t stopped touching since Clarke pulled her down onto the couch, since the words slipped past her lips.  _ I love you _ . Her heart flutters at the thought and she shifts, scooting down further between her girls, pressing more firmly against them as she replays each gentle caress from the night before. She’s home, for the first time in years, it feels like she belongs. Her breathing slips back into the slow steady rhythm of sleep and she nearly does as well when she feels Clarke shift in her arms, twisting until they’re face to face.

Clarke’s arm slips over Lexa’s bare waist and she presses closer, resting her hand on Octavia’s side. She can just feel the slight rise and fall of Octavia’s breathing. Opening her eyes slowly, her gaze brushes across the unchecked mirth evident on Lexa’s face. The walls Lexa hides behind are gone, and there’s a softening of her features, she smiles easier, bigger. Her eyes bright, searching and hopeful, lock with Clarke’s for a moment and Clarke wonders if this is it, if they’ve really figured out how to stay together and make this life work out.

She wants to stay wrapped up in this moment forever. It’s quieter out here, on the edge of downtown. Even though the sun has been up for a little while there’s no one yelling beneath their bedroom window. The sunlight seems less harsh. And for the first time in years she had enough space to sleep. This for eternity would be perfect. Clarke lifts her head from the pillow and leans forward slightly, “Morning,” she mumbles as she presses her lips to Lexa’s.

The kiss is unhurried, neither moving to make it anything more than a soft hello, as to not disturb the peace that descended on them overnight. Clarke hopes that they’re through the storm. That what happened last night with Bellamy will fizzle and he’ll come to his senses so they can tell him. That nothing will need to change, and they will all be alright. She presses closer to Lexa. Life lately has been ripe with surprises, most of them stemming from the other woman in their bed, and while she isn’t complaining about the outcome it would be nice if this peace lasted.

Clarke traces her hand down Lexa’s spine, revelling in the fine muscle she can feel just underneath her skin. This will always be her favorite place, having one of the women she loves in her arms. Maybe today they can just stay like this, unencumbered by the world. Lexa takes one of her hands, threading their fingers together as she presses Clarke onto her back, one leg sliding over Clarke’s as she shifts closer. Clarke grins into the kiss as Lexa nips at her bottom lip. 

Maybe this will be enough.

Maybe she can keep from falling victim to her depression. She wants her life to be like this, late nights with friends, laughing and sharing time, and soft mornings with Lexa and Octavia, wrapped up together. Kisses that fade into more kisses with no more motive than to continue kissing. She doesn’t want to be the cause of their pain anymore. Clarke brushes her thumb across the back of Lexa’s hand where it sits in hers. Maybe she can find a way to heal.

Lexa presses more firmly on top of Clarke, her kisses less languid, more awake, but no more demanding than they were at the start. She revels in the feeling of their sleep warmed skin pressed together and the way she and Lexa are learning each other’s bodies. How they fit and how they don’t. Bumping into each other and missing cues, but finding each other.

Octavia’s voice is groggy and thick with sleep, “So, we’re y’all going to wake me up or just get it on while I slept less than a foot away.”

“You looked peaceful,” Clarke laughs and kisses Lexa’s nose.

“Very peaceful,” Lexa nods in agreement as she presses a lazy open mouthed kiss to Clarke’s lips.

Octavia shifts, coming to rest on her side, tucking her arm up under her head as she watches Clarke and Lexa dissolve into a beautiful mess of tangled limbs and giggles. She chews on her lip undecided if she wants to join or continue watching, because as happy as this moment is, as much as she wants to live in it, her heart is still aching. Bellamy is her family, he protected her when she needed it most, but he forgot along the way that she grew up. He never took the time to see the person she became or the family and the love she found, because she doesn’t know how he doesn’t see how important Clarke and Lexa are to her. 

Lexa reaches out, sliding half off of Clarke, full of soft smiles and gentle laughter, and threads her fingers through Octavia’s hair, kissing her, demanding to be kissed. Octavia grins as she obliges, tasting Clarke on Lexa’s lips. She lets herself lose herself in feeling the kiss. The smooth warmth of Lexa’s mouth on hers, the heat of bare skin pressed together. 

Lexa pulls back, “Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Waffles?” Octavia asks, hopefully, as her stomach rumbles.

“We’d have to unpack first,” Clarke reaches out and catches Octavia’s hand in her own.

“Maybe not waffles then.” Octavia pouts.

Lexa leans down again and presses a volley of kisses to Octavia’s face, “There’s no pouting in this bed.”

Octavia feels a laugh bubble up in her chest and push past her lips. Clarke presses into her side and Lexa leans her head on Octavia’s shoulder. For now, this moment, it’s everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you think? Who's going to fall for Raven first?
> 
> Hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask).  
> As always read more about the girls [here, on the vaguely organized fic page](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) or just check out the [fic tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) for all the asks.


	13. What Are We Doing Here | Present Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to present day! The girls get to the art show and everything seems to be going well...
> 
> Also! The artwork described in this chapter... it's a nod to [this one](http://papurrcat.tumblr.com/post/140268443772/cant-get-my-mind-of-au-stuff-tbh-so-during-work) by the talented Papurrcat.

Clarke picks up the napkins on the _hors d’œvres_ table and straightens them, placing them precisely back down next to the plates before making miniscule adjustments to the place cards in front of each chafer and tray. She had already made several sweeps around the gallery making sure everything was correctly labelled and priced, and needs something to do because nothing is out of place, but she can't shake the feeling that everything is going to come crashing down around her tonight. The feeling has nothing to do with the art and everything to do with the secret they've decided to stop hiding.

She feels a light touch on her arm and turns to see Octavia at her side, eyes hopeful behind smoky makeup and a confident smirk. Clarke’s gaze rakes down her body, taking in the the length of Octavia’s tanned legs exposed by small white dress shorts, and long sinewy arms left bare by a black halter top. Her breath catches in her throat. She resists the urge to pull Octavia into her arms. A smile spreads across her face and for a moment she calms. Tonight, no matter what happens, they're united.

“Your mom’s here.” Octavia doesn't quite meet her gaze as she nudges one of the place cards with a freshly manicured matte black fingernail.

“This is really happening, isn't it?”

“She's talking to Kane. She knows that we know that he knows.”

Clarke shakes her head trying to suppress a smile. “I guess it doesn't matter anymore.”

Octavia raises an eyebrow. She’s hesitant to hope that what they talked over in the few minutes before they left the house is real. She needs it to be real because tonight she doesn’t want to feel someone pull away from her, fear recoiling through them. Their love should give them confidence, not pause.

“All this hiding,” Clarke waves a hand dismissively. The longer they stay in the closet the more complicated it gets, the less she wants to continue doing it, if only it were really as easy as it seemed, deciding the time was now, that to. “We don't have to worry who knows or doesn't, anymore.”

A sly grin teases the corner of Octavia’s mouth as she takes a step closer to Clarke. She wraps her arm around Clarke’s waist and pulls her close to her side. For the first time since they started dating Lexa she doesn't have to worry about who is watching if she wants to hold someone’s hand or throw an arm around their shoulders. She isn't naive enough to think that just because they came to terms on coming out that the rest of the world will be okay with it, but she's proud of her girlfriends and she's tired of hiding.

“So you’re done being mad at me?”

Octavia cocks her head to the side, pressing her index finger to her chin in thought, grinning widely. “I haven’t decided.”

Clarke shoves Octavia playfully and moves towards the end of the table and the champagne, sweeping two flutes up and spinning back to face her girlfriend. They have bruised hearts to mend, starting now. Tonight is just the first step in a long journey, “As long as you’re by my side, and theirs.”

The champagne tickles her throat as Octavia takes a sip. She rocks back and forth slightly, shifting her weight, completely lost in the moment as she smiles at Clarke. She closes the space between them once more. “I like the sound of that.” Octavia leans in, her forehead resting against Clarke’s, closing her eyes and trying not to let the hope soaring in her chest burst free and take over. Her lips brush Clarke’s, smile pressing into smile.

She kisses her every day and somehow this feels like the first kiss in a lifetime.

Octavia pulls back, her fingers tangling with Clarke’s as she steps back. This is how they get to where they want to be, soft and easy. Who can fault them their love when it’s pure and kind, based on trust and choice? It would have been so much easier to walk away a hundred times but not one of them did. Deep down she knows not one of them could say they were not made better for the love that they’ve found in one another. She feels a calm happiness spread through her as Clarke smiles softly at her.

The reprieve only lasts a moment though as she hears someone approach.

“Kane!” Clarke squeezes Octavia’s hand but she doesn’t let go.

Octavia looks Kane over, cleaned up from this afternoon, dark slacks and a button up, freshly shaven. It’s possibly the nicest she’s ever seen him dressed in the two years Clarke has been working for him. A surge of pride runs through her. This really is Clarke’s big break.

“I thought you were bringing Lexa tonight?” His expression is as carefully guarded as his tone.

Clarke is quick to retort, “I see you’re bringing my mother.”

Kane glances away, his eyes searching out Abby across the gallery where she’s deep in conversation with Lexa and Raven. When he finds her his eyes light up and his face softens, as he turns back Octavia can see the hesitation, the fear that his feelings will not be accepted. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No, just unexpected.” Clarke smiles, “She’s been happier lately. Maybe it’s time this family stopped keeping secrets.”

Octavia pulls Clarke a little closer, “Love shouldn’t have to be a secret.”

“I hope I make her happy. And the four of you, you are as well?”

“Very much,” Octavia grins as Clarke bumps their hips together. She catches the shy way Clarke looks at her, eyes flicking from their clasped hands to her face and back. It’s been too long since they allowed themselves to be carefree like this and it feels like a weight has been lifted. It’s like when they were younger and being in love was the only thing that mattered. It’s more intoxicating than the champagne on their tongues.

With her girls by her side Octavia feels invincible. She hopes they feel even a small portion of her confidence.

Clarke’s voice is quieter and much more serious when she breaks the silence. “You don’t think this will be a problem for the show tonight?” She sips on her champagne, hiding behind the gesture.

“Clarke, you are a talented artist. I wouldn’t have hired you otherwise. And your girlfriends are equally as impressive as you.”

“It isn’t your opinion I’m worried about.” Clarke rolls her eyes and crosses one arm across her chest, wrapping her hand around her elbow. She holds on to keep from crossing her arms completely not wanting to close herself off.

“People who come to art shows are people that like to be challenged. The people that will be here tonight will, largely, already be people who love your work, Clarke. Them finding out that you’re in a less than conventional relationship will probably only give them something to talk about, which keeps you in people’s minds.” Kane winks and raises his glass, “This is what we want. The more they talk about you the more your art sells.”

“But we don’t want people talking about… _us_.” Clarke takes a sip of her champagne and purses her lips, choosing her words carefully. “I want the discussion to be about my art.”

“You are your art, Clarke.” Kane takes a step and turns to look out at the rest of the gallery, “There’s Raven, there’s Lexa, there’s Octavia,” he points in turn to several of the paintings. “That one reminds me of Lincoln, and what’s the blonde woman, the one who owns the bar?-”

“-Niylah-”

“-that one is her.” He turns back to Clarke who is blushing slightly and Octavia can’t help but grin widely, heart surging with pride as she listens to Kane’s words. There may be a bubbling discussion about their relationship as the evening progresses, but the real topic of conversation will be in each of the canvases that are so clearly windows into Clarke’s heart.

“Even if someone can’t point to one of your paintings and name the influence, it’s there. You pour everything you are into your work, and they are all part of who you are.”

Clarke nods, taking in Kane’s words, trying to let them help calm her rapidly beating heart. She’s letting her head get away from her, trying to fight battles that she isn’t yet facing. Right now, everything is as close to perfect as it can be. She tries to wrap that feeling around her.

“Which pieces do you think will sell first?” Clarke launches back into business. That’s what tonight is about, at the end of the day, this is work, and she can’t let that get lost in her emotions.

Octavia leans into Clarke, pressing her face close to Clarke’s ear and whispering, “Come find us when you’re done talking shop.” She squeezes her arm tight around Clarke before slipping away, twirling a champagne flute between her fingers. The first few patrons were trickling in, friends, and friends of friends and it was now or never. She needed to know coming out tonight is what they’re really going to do or if one of them is going to back out. It won’t be her, and it won’t be Raven, but she’s worried Lexa will run like she has in the past. Too many times has Lexa let her fear of being hurt override her trust in them.

After two years she and Clarke deserve this much.

She walks up behind Lexa, taking in the sight of her upper back, exposed by the thin strapped black dress clinging to her. There’s a slit in her skirt up to the top of her thigh, as high as the one in Raven’s; her tanned leg is just barely exposed. Lexa has her hair is down, soft curls cascading down the middle of the back, hiding the tattoo peeking out from underneath her dress. Octavia bites her lip thinking about all the times she’s traced her fingers down the black and blue ink, feeling the muscle and bone underneath, from shoulder blades to the small of Lexa’s back, and lower to the soft curve of her ass. She reaches out, brushing Lexa’s hair off her shoulders, fingertips trailing over warm familiar skin, shoulder blades, shoulders, triceps, the hollow of the elbow on a straightened arm. She steps closer as her hand traces further down Lexa’s arm; she can feel Lexa tremble beneath her touch.

Octavia rests her chin on Lexa’s shoulder and feels just the slightest bit of tension eke out of her back. She turns her head, pressing a featherlight kiss to Lexa’s neck as to not leave a lipstick mark. Lexa leans into her and for a moment the room recedes down to just the two of them. No one else matters.

Octavia closes her eyes, steeling herself for the question she’s about to ask because she doesn’t want to go into tonight with blind hope. Too many times has she assumed everyone was on the same page and it’s had nearly disastrous results. Tonight is too important to Clarke for them to be making any sort of scene.

“We’re doing this, then?” Octavia whispers.

Lexa turns and takes in Octavia’s piercing gaze. It isn’t malicious, only truth seeking, and it’s a far cry from the pain in her eyes before they left. The scowl and the thinly contained anger. Lexa wants to wrap her arms around Octavia and take away the fear she knows is behind that question. The fear that once again Lexa will make them wait and set aside their feelings for the sake of hers.

She reaches out and links her pinky finger with Octavia’s, swinging their hands gently. “I promise you that we are.”

Octavia nods swiftly and smiles. It cracks through Lexa’s exterior, pushing at the walls she keeps up in public, and she feels a smile breaking across her face. Her heart flutters and she feels lighter even as she worries what coming out might bring. To see the happiness she can so easily give Octavia is more intoxicating than she imagined it to be.

“I am worried though. Not for this,” Lexa squeezes her finger where it’s still linked with Octavia’s, “But Raven mentioned earlier that Wick was back in town and looking for her.”

Lexa glances over her shoulder at Raven and Abby, laughing and lighthearted. She wants to hold onto this moment and make it last all night.

“Do you think he’s going to come after her again? That he knows where we live?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t say much and then we started fighting.” Lexa drops her gaze because in the chaos of managing four sets of feelings and reactions they hadn’t looked past what was happening right in front of them. Until they had a moment to step back and breathe and realizing that they were all still standing together, she had forgotten that her girlfriend’s stalker-ex had returned.

“He’s not getting to her this time.”

“No,” Lexa clenches her jaw, if he does anything at all she’ll draft the restraining order and carry it to the judge herself.

Octavia tugs on their tangled fingers and pulls Lexa close to her, tilting her head to press a quick kiss to Lexa’s lips. Lexa stiffens, reminding herself to breathe, to return the kiss, because she has no reason not to kiss Octavia back. They are done hiding, she reminds herself. Octavia rewards her with a contented sigh as she pulls away, and a smirk that is a promise of more to come later.

She could get used to this.

Guests have started to arrive. Mostly people Lexa doesn’t recognize, though several she does. Small time art buyers, people she’s helped Clarke talk to in the past. She nods to a couple of the clients from the firm where she works. The night has only just begun and there are quite a few people already here. It’s promising. Lexa straightens her back and bumps her shoulder against Octavia’s.

“It’s starting to look like a party in here.”

“Good, does that mean I can get another glass of champagne?”

“Only if you get me one t-” Lexa’s words falter as she spots her boss, the lead partner at Trikru Associates, walk through the front door. Indra cuts a striking figure, intimidating and beautiful, her dress wraps around her like the midnight sky, a shade lighter than her skin. She doesn’t waste any time searching out Lexa and making her way over, picking up a flute of champagne as she does.

By the time she’s standing in front of them Lexa has a small, perfunctory smile on her face. The brevity and comfort stripped from her even as she stays close to Octavia. She may never be ready for this moment, and she’s been putting it off for too long now.

Their hellos are polite and reserved. Lexa has only interacted with Indra on a few occasions outside of work and the uncertainty of the outcome of the interaction has her wavering where normally she would be assured and confident.

“This must be your partner,” Indra holds out her hand to Octavia as she looks to Lexa.

Lexa nods her head with a slow blink, her throat dry. She’s never been one to hide her sexuality, but admitting she is polyamorous feels like coming out of the closet all over again. Her heart thuds wildly in her chest and she swallows down her fear.

“One of them,” Octavia beams and grips Indra’s hand. “Octavia Blake.”

Indra raises an eyebrow but she returns the handshake without a question.

Octavia’s arm slides around her waist and Lexa lets out the breath she is holding as she feels Raven come up on her other side. As much as they’ve been saying tonight is it, this is _the_ moment for Lexa, the one that could change her life or could just be another set of introductions quickly moved on from and forgotten, but Raven smiles at her as if there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Maybe there isn’t.

Raven leans forward slightly, extending her hand toward Indra. “Hi, I’m Raven, Raven Reyes. You must be Lexa’s new boss, she’s told us so much about you… all positive of course.” Raven laughs with a wink.

“Yes,” Indra glances from Raven to Lexa to Octavia and back to Lexa.

Lexa tears her gaze from the ceiling, her hands clasped loosely behind her back to keep them from trembling. Breathe in, breathe out, just keep going forward. It’s the only way through this. She reaches for Raven’s champagne flute and takes a sip, steadying her nerves before she tries to speak again. Because this is the moment. This is the moment she learns if she’ll lose everything she risked to keep her heart intact. When she meets Indra’s eyes again, she can’t read them, her expression impassive.

She clears her throat, “I should really introduce you to Clarke Griffin as well, I think she’s still speaking with Marcus.”

“You really are friends with the artist. I thought you might be bragging,” Indra almost smiles.

Lexa nods swiftly once, but deep in the back of her mind she can feel worry starting to bubble over because she still can’t get a read on how Indra feels about their admission. But this is Lexa’s truth and she doesn’t want to tarnish it by taking back her promise or running. Not tonight. “Yes, we know her intimately,” Lexa takes another sip of Raven’s champagne and hands the flute back, nearly empty. “I’m sure she would be quite pleased to speak with you about the pieces she has out tonight.”

“I was thinking to buy a new piece of art for the office. Do you have any favorites on display tonight?”

“Several, in fact,” Lexa smiles. She squeezes Raven’s hand as she steps out from between her and Octavia. “Clarke talks about them much more eloquently than I do, however. So I’ll let her show you.”

They cross the gallery quickly, few words passing between them, and Lexa reminds herself that it is normal for Indra to be quiet. She doesn’t speak often, instead choosing what she says with care. The silence isn’t a commentary on the reveal of the nature of her relationship.

She slides up next to Clarke, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the small of her back before she speaks, “Clarke, I wanted to introduce you to Indra, one of the partners at Trikru Associates.”

Clarke turns, stepping into the space beside Lexa, their shoulders brushing as she brings her arm up to sit on Lexa’s waist. She reaches out her hand, “Pleasure, Clarke Griffin.”

Indra’s grip is firm but Clarke doesn’t miss how her eyes flick quickly to Lexa before she turns her attention to Clarke. Her gaze is scrutinizing and Clarke can tell she’s putting all the pieces together. How she fits into the picture with Lexa, and Octavia, and Raven, because the hesitation in Indra’s eyes and Lexa’s proximity can only mean they’ve truly stopped hiding. Clarke smiles wider because there is nothing that she can do but be certain in this moment. Her heart and her happiness has been on the line too many times and she doesn’t want to let anything or anyone else take that away from her.

This is what she wanted, her girlfriends by her side, so she presses down the worry and instead takes comfort in Lexa warm and pressed to her side.

“You’ve started making quite a name for yourself in the art world,” Indra nods, just the barest hint of a smile around her eyes.

“I hope so,” Clarke smiles. “Otherwise this is going to be a very quiet evening.”

“Something tells me you won’t have a problem filling the house.”

“Clarke’s never had a problem finding buyers for her art.”

“Is that so?”

Lexa tries to suppress the smile trying to break free, “As long as I’ve known her it is.”

Indra quiets, intent on the champagne flute between her fingers for a moment. Clarke can feel Lexa tense beside her and she brushes her thumb in small circles on her back, trying to offer some comfort. The noise from the room washing around them in waves, bubbling excitement beating against the quiet cove where they stand, waiting to see which way the wind will blow, if it will bring with it a storm or clear skies.

“You mentioned a favorite, Lexa.”

“Yes, of course.” Lexa half turns to Clarke, “The Reflection.”

Clarke grins and steps away from Lexa, leading the three of them into the center of the gallery. “I knew you would be sad to see that one go.”

“Only because it makes me laugh.”

Clarke glances at Lexa out of the corner of her eye, wondering where her girlfriend is going to take this story.

“Every time I see it I’m reminded that you stood barefooted in the rain in the middle of the street for fifteen minutes while you prodded puddles. You were sick for like a week and wouldn’t admit to it.”

Lexa nudges Clarke with her shoulder and Clarke rolls her eyes. “I was not sick because I stood out in the rain. I teach tiny children, they’re like walking germ factories.”

Lexa snorts.

They stop in front of a medium sized canvas stained in purples and blues of the far off night sky, the heart of a galaxy or a nebula, reflected in a puddle. Someone reaching down, disturbing the surface while another figure does the same as if the solid reality is in fact the inverted world caught in the reflection of a puddle, drawing the curious to it. Who is this person that I see reflected instead of myself.

“It’s striking,” Indra takes a step back, settling herself in front of the center of the painting, watching it as if she is one of the figures trapped inside the question. She pries Clarke with questions and Clarke can’t tell if she’s talking Indra into or out of buying the painting. Clarke is almost certain that no one could talk Indra into anything she didn’t already want.

They talk for a short while, but Clarke finds a way to excuse herself, knowing that as much as she wants to stay by Lexa’s side… or Raven’s, or Octavia’s, tonight she is at work. By the time she has a chance to glance back out across the gallery it’s more than half full of patrons and she hasn’t said hello to even a quarter of them. She needs to start making her rounds before she gets so far behind she misses the opportunity to speak to someone important. Everyone is moving around already and it’s going to be nearly impossible to keep track of all the new faces and which ones she’s spoken to and which ones she hasn’t.

“Mom!” Clarke catches Abby as she passes by, “Could you find out when Kane wants to do the speeches?”

Abby turns her wrist to look at her watch, “I think he said in about half an hour. Does that still work?”

“Yes, and Mom?” Clarke lowers her voice and takes half a step closer. “You could have told me, if you’re happy I mean.”

Abby laughs, and it’s loud, drawing attention, but Clarke can tell from the joyous sound that her mother doesn’t care. “You know, I could have said the same to you a few times as well.”

Clarke sighs, and shoos her mother off, even if she is smiling, because this is it. This is happiness. Even with the nervous fluttering in her stomach, tonight is perfect. She’s lost in thought and doesn’t notice Raven approach.

“You don’t mind if I borrow the artist for a moment do you?” Raven smiles brightly, the twitch of her lips, mischievous. She takes both of Clarke’s hands in her own and pulls her away from the others, before anyone can respond. She walks backwards into the crowd, deftly weaving through them even as she keeps focused on Clarke. “You look like you could use a real drink.”

“You brought it?” Clarke’s eyes light up, Indra, and her mother, and the growing crowd already forgotten.

Raven waggles her eyebrows, “You doubt me, Clarke? I’m wounded.”

“Lexa is going to skin you alive.”

“Only if I let you get drunk.” Raven laughs and Clarke joins in as she’s tugged into the back hallway near Kane’s office out of view of the gallery floor and any interested eyes.

Raven wastes no time hiking up her long red skirt, the already impossibly high slit sliding even higher on her thigh to reveal a garter belt that holds a slim flask. Clarke’s eyes trail up Raven’s leg, the prosthetic she’s wearing tonight looks like metal spun into lace, silver and white filigree that looks too delicate to hold anyone up, but Raven had worked with a designer friend of Anya’s to create the limb and it’s as sturdy as the blades she uses to run. The toned muscle of her thigh is bare where it extends out of the prosthetic, and only the barest slip of skin is hidden by the red material of her skirt. Only for a few short inches hug her hips and waist exposing the bare toned plain of Raven’s stomach left visible by the white wrap of cloth pretending to be a crop top. She’s stunning.

Clarke lets out a long breath, watching Raven knock back a sip of what is most likely whiskey. She can’t help but stare because this moment, it’s just them, hiding in the back hall like a couple of teenagers sneaking off to drink and get up to shenanigans. For a moment nothing else matters and Raven is in front of her looking even more stunning than she does every other day. And it’s Raven that is the reason they are all here. It’s Raven that she has to thank for finally pushing them to the point where they aren’t afraid; they’re just in love.

“Earth to Griffin,” Raven holds out the flask and shakes it, a knowing grin gracing her lips.

Clarke takes the flask but she doesn’t take a sip. She instead leans forward, pinning Raven to the wall and crashing their mouths together, kissing her hungrily with teeth and tongue demanding notice. They’ll have to fix their lipstick, but she doesn’t care.

Raven laughs as she kisses Clarke back, her hands sliding around Clarke’s waist and underneath her white suit jacket, finding that she’s wearing nothing underneath.

“Just the jacket?” Raven nips at Clarke’s lower lip. “Isn’t that a bit risky?” She pulls back just enough to trail a finger down the plunging neckline of the jacket, brushing it along the side of Clarke’s breast until her finger hooks around the first button, tugging.

“Tape.” Clarke rolls her eyes. “There’s an inordinate amount of tape keeping me in place and my clothes on tonight.”

Raven grins wickedly, “That’s unfortunate.”

Clarke pins Raven against the wall with her hips, her hands trailing up Raven’s bare waist.

“So that’s what you and Lexa were doing in the bathroom for ages. O and I were taking bets on whether or not you were having makeup sex.”

“Sadly, no. Besides I think we would have needed one of you for that.” Clarke presses a softer kiss to Raven’s lips. She turns her head and takes a sip of whiskey from the flask. “Thank you.”

Raven raises an eyebrow, taking the flask back from Clarke for another sip. Clarke trades another sip before she continues.

“You’re the reason we made it. You’re the reason we’re still together, that it’s all worked out like this. Without you we might be happy, but we wouldn’t be happy like this, and-”

Raven cuts Clarke’s soft words short with a kiss of her own, hands tangling in Clarke’s hair. She could lose herself in the kiss, they could push their way into Kane’s office and onto the couch she knows is there. It’s tempting, the thought of laying Clarke down and slowly undressing her while everyone starts to wonder where they’ve gotten to. Raven presses her palms against Clarke’s shoulders and leans her head back against the wall with a rueful smile.

“We should get back to your party before you’re missed.”

Clarke leans in, chasing another kiss, but Raven stops her.

“When we get home,” she tugs at the top button of Clarke’s suit jacket. “I want to see exactly how much double sided tape it takes to keep you in this thing.” Raven leans forward, her lips brushing against Clarke’s ear, her voice drops down to a whisper, “Because it’s really fucking hot.”

Clarke whimpers slightly as Raven steps back, fixing her own lipstick with a swipe of her thumb and a cursory glance in the glass of a picture frame.

She stands up, straightening out the suit jacket and making sure all the buttons are still done up before she follows Raven’s lead and trails after her back out into the gallery and the throng of people.

Nearly everyone she knows has arrived. Clustered in front of the drinks table are her girlfriends, along with Lincoln, Anya, Jasper, Monty, and Niylah. Bellamy is nowhere to be seen, but that’s probably for the best. After the Christmas party she isn’t sure if they’ll be seeing him around much anymore. Not on purpose anyway.

“We’ve been looking for you!” Jasper opens his arms wide in excitement, and a laugh goes around the group because he’s clearly already taken heavy advantage of the free champagne.

Clarke shakes her head, unable to blame him. She licks the trace of whiskey on her lips, “Raven was helping me with the -”

“Clarke, babe, you’ve got a little bit of lipstick, right, uh, here,” Octavia winks and indicates a spot beneath her lip line.

Clarke rubs at her skin, trying not to meet anyone’s eye as she does.

Lexa steps up beside her, dipping the corner of a napkin in her champagne flute. “Clarke, you’re just making your skin red.” She presses two fingers under Clarke’s chin to lift her face and gently wipe away her smudged lipstick. The look on Lexa’s face is stern, but Clarke can see the tender mirth in her eyes. “Kane said something about doing all the official announcements and things soon.”

For a few moments a series of silent looks pass between the group. Raised eyebrows, small shrugs, nothing too attention grabbing, but just enough that Clarke notices their reactions, even with Lexa’s hands on her.

Lincoln breaks the silence, “Are you going to tell us about the change in plans or were we just supposed to figure it out like every other time?”

“Well, we figured since we’d trained you all so well, we didn’t actually _have_ to say anything this time.” Raven shrugs smugly and leans against Octavia’s side, her chin resting on her shoulder.

Octavia reaches out and wraps an arm around Lexa’s waist.

Lexa slips her hand into Clarke’s.

“But I mean, if you need confirmation-” Octavia starts.

“We’re done keeping our relationship a secret.” Lexa says firmly.

“A toast, then.” Anya raises her champagne flute.

“To love,” Niylah holds up her glass.

“And friendship,” Monty adds.

“I’ll drink to that!” Jasper raises his glass.

“You’ll drink to just about anything,” Clarke jokes.

“True, but this means something.”

The clink of glasses echoes for a few moments and their circle is filled with laughter and smiles. The conversation continues on, as if there hadn’t just been some profound revelation. Love is stronger than fear. It’s a choice they all made together, and continue to make.

Before long Clarke slips away from her friends to greet the other guests. She would rather stay with them and drink and laugh, but for her, tonight is work, and she has to make each guest feel as welcome as her friends do.

She loses track of how many small insipid conversations she’s had about how lovely the evening is and how wonderful it is that such a young artist has made such a large name for herself already. She’s thankful when one of the waitstaff hands her another glass of champagne and wanders off without a word to catch a brief reprieve.

Clarke closes her eyes for a moment as she takes a sip of champagne. Her head is starting to feel fuzzy and she knows she should probably switch to water since they haven’t even made it through half the evening yet and more people are still arriving. Kane had procured the good champagne though for tonight, and she didn’t want to see it go to waste. She smiles to herself and shakes her head lightly. Everything about tonight is falling into place like it should.

For once everything is running smoothly.

“You look good tonight, Clarke.” Anya’s voice is low, and for once Clarke can’t hear the usually mocking tone Lexa’s sister saves for her.

“I was dressed by the best,” Clarke opens her eyes and raises her glass towards Anya. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t have my sister standing beside you if you hadn’t been.”

Clarke rolls her eyes. Some things never change.

The door opens and a couple enters. Clarke recognizes neither of them but they look excited, and if their clothes are anything to go off of, they have money too. The brunette’s jewelry is easily worth what some of Clarke’s paintings are selling for tonight, and her dark, curly haired partner is wearing a cream silk summer dress. Clarke shakes her head, she’s been hanging around Anya too much.

She moves across the small space between where she stood and the gallery doors, hand extended, welcoming the two. The brunette shakes her hand.

“Hi, I’m Echo, and this is my wife-”

“-Costia?” Anya’s voice is a strangled squeak of surprise, and Clarke isn’t certain she’s ever heard the woman sound so uncertain.

Clarke spins, looking to Anya who looks as pale and uneasy as Clarke is starting to feel. The champagne bubbles fuelling the spinning in her head. This is _Lexa’s_ Costia. This is the woman that was the girl that walked away from Lexa and left her shattered. She turns back slowly trying to mask the emotions running through her, keep them from spilling across her face.

Costia’s hand is still in Clarke’s and she knows she should let go but her brain is trying to catch up to the reveal.

Echo looks confused, clearly having no idea what they’ve just walked into. And Costia is wide eyed, shocked but, pleasantly so. A wide smile breaks across her face crinkling her freckled nose.

“Anya? Oh my god, is that really you?” She steps forward, letting go of Clarke’s hand and breaking the silence, her arms outstretched.

Clarke watches for a moment as she embraces Anya, and Anya returns the hug awkwardly. How exactly are you supposed to greet your little sister’s ex after she broke her heart so thoroughly?

 _Lexa_.

Clarke searches frantically through the crowd for Lexa, the wave of sleek dark brown hair softly curled, but she hears the shattering of glass first, and that’s when she spots Lexa, standing by herself, open mouthed in the center of the room, broken glass at her feet, and thinly veiled terror riding in her eyes.

## _______________________________________

 

All things considered the night has been going well.

Lexa sips slowly at her champagne, only keeping it for appearances and to give her hands something to do. Raven and Octavia had slipped off with the boys and she was making her way over to Clarke and her sister when the front door opened.

It takes her a moment. The tight brown curls, and soft warm brown skin, eyes bluer than a summer sky. She looks like not a day has passed, her arm loops through another woman’s. A tall brunette with high cheekbones. Lexa doesn’t spend long looking at her, only long enough to realize she’s beautiful before her attention turns back to the first woman. It’s been less than a second when her brain finally supplies the name she’s been trying to forget for eight years.

 _Costia_.

The champagne flute slips from her fingers and she doesn’t try to catch it as she watches Costia hug her sister.

Her heart stops as the last time she saw Costia replays in her mind. The bounce of her hair as she walked away, shoulders rigid, as if she had been trying not to cry. Maybe Lexa had only hoped that were the case. She remembers the exact shape of the cluster of freckles under Costia’s left eye. And the way Costia’s laugh felt as it wrapped around her, warm and full of life. The kind of life you found at two in the morning on an empty stretch of road when anything was possible and you were infinite. Lexa tries to breathe in, but she can’t, she remembers how it felt to have that ripped from her. Costia walking away and taking every part of Lexa that wanted to live with her.

She remembers the desperate clawing feeling that ate away inside her as she tried to put her life back together, even as she was nothing more than an empty hollow shell of a human, the best part of her ripped out. She remembers calling and messaging Costia until Anya deleted any trace of contact information from her phone and social media. Fuzzy is the memory where she almost flew to Paris with no more plans than to sit on the steps of the Sorbonne and wait for a glimpse of light brown skin and blue eyes, with a cluster of freckles in the shape of an arrowhead underneath her left.

Lexa remembers what it felt like to love Costia, what it felt like to lose her, and for a second she remembers what it feels like to have her heart ripped out and tossed aside like it didn’t matter.

The glass shatters on the ground, splashing champagne across the concrete floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Costia, eh?
> 
> Hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask).  
> As always read more about the girls [here, on the vaguely organized fic page](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) or just check out the [fic tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) for all the asks.


	14. Bonus Scene: This Is How It Starts | 1 year 7 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After today I’m going on a (short) hiatus with this story, but don’t fret I _will_ be back. I’m taking the hiatus for two reasons 1) The music festival I help manage kicks off next week and 2) I need to finish writing the next flashback to make sure that’s all in order before I post the first chapter of it which is chapter 15. Hoping to be back by the end of July with chapter 15 for you all, but we’ll see. In the meantime my tumblr inbox is open for questions about the story!

Two months after they moved into their new house and bit by bit it’s slowly starting to feel like home; the three of them are starting to feel like they might have a life together. They’re settling into routines and finding out what it’s like to live together with space to breathe… and more than one bathroom… and enough closet space for all their clothes and then some. They don’t quite own enough to fill the house, but there’s something about the open expanse of space that feels right, they have room to grow.

Nothing in the last two months has prepared them for Anya though, or more specifically, nothing has prepared Octavia and Clarke for her. Now that they live with Lexa they see her a lot more often. Still the two of them aren’t quite sure why they’re out for coffee with her without Lexa. Clarke still isn’t sure if Anya even likes her.

Octavia shrugs at Clarke’s questioning gaze half hidden behind her cup of coffee. She knows just about as much as Clarke does about why Anya insisted on meeting them without Lexa. And currently that extends as far as the free coffee and muffins sitting in front of them. They’re waiting for Anya to get back from taking a phone call, because of course she asked to meet them and then makes them wait.

Anya makes Octavia nervous sometimes, but not as nervous as she makes Clarke, who is currently sipping on coffee like it’s a life line. Reaching out her foot she rubs her leg against Clarke’s under the table, and that at least earns her a small smile.

That small smile warms her heart, wrapping around it, making her burst with feelings. This past year has been hard but it’s little moments like this when she knows it’s all been worth it. She gets to see Clarke light up again, she gets to see her happy, and she gets to be a part of that, even if, at that very moment they’re wondering if their girlfriend’s big sister is going to tell them off like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

Breaking a muffin in half she hands the top to Clarke. It’s her favorite part.

“What do you figure she wants?” Clarke glances out the window at Anya’s figure, thin enough to seem taller than she is, clad in a complicated forest green and sand colored wrap that doesn’t seem quite warm enough for the grey fall day. She takes a bite of the muffin top and wonders if they should alert Lexa to the meeting. Everything about meeting Anya without Lexa seems strange. This is new territory, a bit like everything lately.

“No clue,” Octavia says around a mouthful of pastry. “She hasn’t offered to overhaul your wardrobe yet though, so maybe she wants something from us?”

Clarke rolls her eyes. “What could we possibly do for Miss-I-own-my-own-fashion-company?”

“For starters, you can agree to what I want,” Anya says as she slides into the empty chair at the table.

Clarke sucks in a deep breath in surprise and Octavia nearly chokes on her muffin. Neither of them had heard the bell on the bakery’s front door.

Octavia coughs and bangs her fist against her chest. She shoots Clarke a look, how the hell did Anya get back inside without them noticing? Clarke offers up a nearly imperceptible shrug and presses her shin against Octavia’s calf. Whatever it is, united front. They can face their girlfriend’s sister, however intimidating she is.

“And what would that be exactly?” Octavia asks.

Anya picks up her coffee and takes a sip, straightening her back, folding and re-folding a napkin for a moment as if she’s weighing her options. “I have something I want to give Lexa as a housewarming gift, but I’m going to need both your permission and your help to make it happen.”

Octavia shrugs without looking away from Anya when she feels Clarke’s gaze flick to her. What could Anya possibly be planning to give Lexa that would require their permission? Unless it was something to do with the house.

“What is it exactly?” Clarke breaks the silence.

“Our parents’ piano. A baby grand, to be exact. Nothing too ostentatious.” Anya shrugs with a tilt of her head.

Clarke and Octavia stare at her wide eyed.

When they don’t respond Anya continues with a small sigh. “She stopped playing when Costia left, something about how she couldn’t enjoy it anymore, but after she decided to move in with the two of you she sat down at the piano again.” Anya pauses and takes a sip of her coffee, her eyes downcast. “I thought she should have it… I haven’t seen her this happy in years.” When she looks back up her eyes are glossy.

Octavia isn’t sure she’s ever seen this much emotion from Anya before. Mirth, amusement, annoyance, but nothing that bordered on deep seated feelings. She is even more guarded than Lexa had been in that regard. If Anya has a soft spot though, it’s clear that it’s Lexa.

“Well, we have the room,” Clarke knocks back the rest of her coffee, trying to keep her own eyes dry, knowing that they’ve had such a profound effect on Lexa makes it hard. “Now the trick is, how do we get it into the house without Lexa finding out.”

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke snuggles down further into the couch her head resting on Lexa’s thigh, a sketchpad propped on her knees, and her toes tucked up under Octavia’s thigh. She can feel them both gently breathing, the rise and fall of each inhale and exhale. For a moment she just wants the peace of this afternoon to stretch on forever, a calm quiet bubble of love and comfort. Clarke sketches Octavia absentmindedly as she naps and Lexa reads.

Days like this don’t happen often enough, but now that they’re living together they’ve started to happen more often. The soft moments where they’re just together and doing their own thing, sharing their lives without expectation.

Clarke nudges Octavia with her foot as she tilts her head back and pokes Lexa with the blunt end of her graphite pencil. They still haven’t put in motion their half of Anya’s plan and Anya is making arrangements to move the piano next weekend. She smiles up at Lexa as Lexa glances down at her.

“We should have a house warming party now that we’re all moved in.”

A worry line creases Lexa’s forehead just for a moment before it vanishes and she runs her fingers through Clarke’s hair. “Everyone’s already seen the place,” she murmurs, turning back to  her book.

Octavia sits up, shifting so she’s laying across Clarke’s shins, her arms resting on Clarke’s knees, her chin on her arms. “Yes, but they haven’t seen it in all its glory. You and Clarke did amazing. Even your freaky little plants are happy. Besides we have to have everyone over so tha-” Octavia’s words die as Clarke shoots her a withering look. The piano is supposed to be a surprise. She bites the inside of her cheek, now that she’s said nearly said it, it’s the only thing she can think to talk about.

“And it’ll be nice to have everyone around before the holidays and everything gets crazy.” Clarke turns her head and presses a kiss to Lexa’s thigh.

Octavia pushes out her bottom lip and looks up at Lexa through long lashes.

Lexa rolls her eyes, knowing this is a losing battle. It isn’t that she doesn’t want their friends to come over, it’s just that home is the one place they can just be together like this, and if everyone is over she was to pretend she’s just another friend and not falling madly in love. “Alright, who do we invite?”

Clarke and Octavia start spitting out names.

“Lincoln.”

“Niylah.”

“Anya.”

“Raven.”

It doesn’t take them long to exhaust their list of close friends.

“What about your brother, O?” Lexa asks carefully. They haven’t talked much about Bellamy since the day they moved in, only seen him once on a night out with everyone. She tries not to reach for her wrist, still able to feel where he had grabbed her.

Octavia whines slightly and pouts harder. “I suppose we have to invite him. He’ll make a fuss if we don’t.” She reaches out and squeezes Lexa’s knee. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah,” Lexa smiles tight lipped and nods. He isn’t her favorite person, but he’s Octavia’s family, and family is important. “We just have to be careful,” Lexa says, a slight waver in her voice. The last thing she wants to do is make the already tenuous relationship worse, but any hint of anything between the three of them beyond friendship is bound to set Bellamy off again, especially if it’s between her and Clarke.

Clarke tosses her sketchbook to the table and sits up taking Lexa’s book and gently laying it open on top of it. She shifts so she’s sitting in Lexa’s lap and Octavia scoots across the couch nestling with her back against Clarke’s legs. They’re pressed into the corner of the couch, a pile of bodies and limbs, warm with late afternoon lethargy.

Pressing her nose against Lexa’s neck, Clarke snuggles closer even as she reaches out for Octavia. “We don’t have to be anything we don’t want to be.”

“I wish that were true,” Lexa whispers. She tugs Octavia closer so she can wrap her arms around both of them as she tries to push away the fear and sadness that threatens to overwhelm her. If only it were as easy as just being together. If it were as easy to tell people that you’re in love with more than one person as it were to say that person has the same gender as you. Even then, that can be the most difficult thing.

Octavia kisses Lexa’s shoulder and sits up a little straighter, “Why can’t we just tell our friends? Anya knows. I think Raven knows, she’s just waiting for us to say something first.”

“The more people that know a secret the less of a secret it becomes,” Clarke murmurs.

“And I can’t have anyone at work find out, I’ll never find a job at a private firm.” Lexa adds. “Besides, I’ve seen the way some of the guys on the force treat you already. The way they talk to Lincoln about you. You can’t want that to be worse than it already is.”

Octavia straightens, and pulls Lexa’s hand into hers rubbing her thumb across the palm. She kisses her fingertips. “I’d take it all on if it meant I could be proud of you, and us, out loud.” She can feel it bubbling inside her, the need to be who she is, and who she is may not be someone that everyone can accept, but it’s someone she’s proud to be. Octavia leans over and kisses Clarke’s cheek. “I love you, I love both of you,” the words are quiet but steady. “I don’t want to have to hide how I feel.”

“I’m not ready,” Lexa whispers. She watches Octavia’s face fall and her heart aches and cracks with the weight of the pain that sadness causes. She wishes she could take back the words and make them untrue, but she would be hurting herself.

Clarke pulls Octavia against her. “The world is crueler than we like to think it is. I don’t want them tearing us apart.”

“Neither do I,” Octavia says.

“One day,” Lexa starts. “One day we’ll all be ready. Maybe we’ll tell everyone, maybe we’ll only tell a few people. But until that day that doesn’t mean I’m any less in love with you.” Lexa’s hand shakes as she brushes her knuckles against Octavia’s cheek. Every admission of feeling leaves her feeling vulnerable and raw, but she knows she’s safe wrapped up in their arms.

Clarke kisses Octavia’s forehead. “For now, we keep this to ourselves.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“Hopefully it’s someone we trust,” Lexa says.

“If we trust them, why don’t we just tell them?”

“Because this isn’t about them, it’s about us,” Clarke replies.

Octavia settles down in between her girlfriends, finding it hard to truly be upset when she can feel their beating hearts, the gentle rise and fall of their breath. She closes her eyes and tugs at the blanket on the back of the couch, pulling it over the three of them. This is a start, a promise, hope that one day she won’t have to hold her love quiet inside her. She’s never really enjoyed  keeping secrets or keeping quiet, even if she’s learned how to. She doesn’t know how much longer she can not love them out loud. She had hoped that maybe once they were settled in the new house things would change; her heart aches with the secrets it holds.

“As long as we always come home to this,” she whispers.

“Always.”

## _______________________________________

 

Raven looks up from where she’s lounging on Anya’s couch, which is exactly where she’s been most of the morning. Anya sets a mug of coffee down on the table within arm’s reach and goes back to pacing around her no longer pristine living room. Tarps have been spread across the hardwood floors and furniture has been moved to form a clear path to the front door. There’s a pile of padding and straps in place, the movers just needed a few more tools to dismantle the piano.

She had come over early to help Anya prep her apartment, having somehow gotten talked, yet again, into helping people move things. They needed to stop promising her beer and food. She’s too easily swayed into helping her friends.

Raven slips her prosthetic off. Her nub has been bothering her despite not having done much today, and she proceeds to massage what remains of her left leg from a lab accident in college. Lately, more often than not she’s been having problems with it, too much movement in the socket. She knows her skin is red underneath her jeans and there isn’t much she can do right now about it, not without taking her pants off, but she and Anya aren’t quite at that level of friendship yet. Besides the piano movers will be up any moment to get the piano.

Grunting, she sits up and reaches for the coffee.

Anya pauses in front of her floor to ceiling windows and taps her foot impatiently. Raven can tell she’s itching to put things back in their places.

“Maybe you should have made these Irish coffees. You need to chill.” Raven shakes her head as Anya completes another lap around her apartment.

“I am perfectly… chill.” Anya huffs and sits down in her chair. “It just looks like a wrecking crew came through in here.”

“They’ll put it back together once they get the piano out.”

“Your job this afternoon is to help Clarke keep Lexa out of the house until Octavia or I send the all’s clear.”

“You got it.” Raven tosses back half of her coffee. “One question, why do you need me? Octavia will be helping you get the piano in place, and Clarke can take care of distracting Lexa.”

Anya looks up at Raven through half lidded eyes over her mug. The two of them had been up unbelievably late last night discussing life, the universe, everything and nothing. At one point they had debated pizza toppings and whether anchovies and pineapple were valid options - not together of course - but in theory.

Raven sips her coffee and closes her eyes. If there’s one thing Anya can do in the kitchen, it’s make coffee. It puts the burnt sludge she gets for free at work to shame. This moment feels like peace and a little bit like a quiet moment at home. Her heart aches at the thought. It’s been too long since she’s been home, but she doesn’t know how to go back. She has something now though, these new friendships, budding and fragile. She has… something.

“Maybe I just want you here because I enjoy your company,” Anya mutters, sounding vaguely annoyed about the entire idea.

“Then shouldn’t I stay and help you and Octavia clean?” Raven sticks her tongue out and squints at Anya.

“I didn’t say I liked it _that_ much.”

## _______________________________________

 

“Are you ready?” Clarke calls from the kitchen.

Lexa glances around her book, even though she can’t see Clarke from where she’s lounging on the couch, half napping, half engrossed in the book she’s been trying to read all weekend but has barely touched between Clarke and Octavia debating rearranging the living room approximately six times. She still doesn’t understand exactly why the furniture needs to be rearranged. If they want people to get a sense of their house they shouldn’t be moving things around – her argument got lost somewhere between heated whispers exchanged between her two girlfriends, the only word of which she’d been able to make out was her sister’s name.

She could tell there was some kind of plan afoot, but she didn’t want to call Anya and ask only to see Anya take out the spoiled surprise on Octavia who is practically vibrating with excitement. The house party was clearly a cover for something. The question was what exactly. Octavia had been avoiding her all week, nearly let something slip when they asked about having the party, it didn’t take a lot of energy to figure out that there was something, surprisingly she had no inclination as to what it might be.

Clarke pokes her head around the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the downstairs, one eyebrow raised, a glass of water in hand. Lexa groans into her book and lets it fall to her face. She’s just about at the climax of the story and she doesn’t want it interrupted, even if she promised she would go out and help pick up the last of the supplies for the party.

“Are you sure you need me? Isn’t Raven going with you?” Lexa stretches, it’s the weekend and for once she just feels like being lazy.

“Yep! She and Anya will be here any minute, so we’ve got to be ready to go.”

“Shouldn’t I stay and help Octavia clean? We know Anya won’t do much but point out what needs to be done.”

“Maybe she’ll offer to call in her maid,” Octavia quips, coming into the living room from upstairs.

“Raven and I need you with us,” Clarke says decisively as she pulls on her shoes.

“You should go, Lexa,” Octavia insists. “I can handle cleaning – and your sister. Besides they’ll need someone who can carry things.” She leans over and kisses Lexa’s forehead, grinning.

Lexa sighs and marks her page in her book before tossing it onto the coffee table. She tugs Octavia down for another kiss nearly pulling her over the back of the couch. Octavia falls against the back, bumping her forehead against Lexa’s.

“Someone seems eager.”

“Someone seems eager to get me out of the house,” Lexa teases, prodding, seeing how easy it is to break Octavia’s resolve, and get her to spill the secret.

“It's just, we, uh,” Octavia stumbles over her words, staring into Lexa's eyes. She just wants to tell her, see her light up with excitement, and get to experience one more part of her girlfriend. In all the time they had been together Lexa hasn't talked much about her childhood or the things she did growing up. There is nothing Octavia wants more than for Lexa to trust them with her story. Then again, she can't blame her for not talking about her past. Octavia has her own terrors.

“You should go with Clarke,” she whispers against Lexa’s lips.

“So persuasive, detective.” Lexa murmurs, smiling, her fingers curl around the collar of Octavia’s flannel. “You know that I know that you’re up to something.”

“We’re throwing a party, of course I’m up to something, excellent cross-examination councillor.”

Lexa sighs and kisses Octavia, chastely, one more time before nudging her back towards standing. She trusts her girls and she trusts her sister, whatever they have planned can’t be that terrible. Octavia smiles down at her and she entwines their fingers together. Soft green eyes meet and Lexa lets the rest of her worry melt away. Tonight, after all is said and done she gets to go upstairs with her girls, gets to hold them close; she can let them go for a few hours while the others are here.

With Octavia still hovering over her she doesn’t notice the front door open, or Anya and Raven enter, bags in hand. She doesn’t notice until she feels Octavia freeze under her fingertips, as they set the bags down heavily on the dining room table, and Clarke stammers from the kitchen.

“Guys? We’ve got company.”

“Hey sis,” Anya says brightly.

“Hey.” Raven adds, glancing away from the living room and what she knows was an intimate moment she wasn’t supposed to be privy to. She catches Clarke’s eye on accident and Raven can see the truth written on her face. Her first instinct that the three of them were together was nothing short of the truth. A secret truth. Raven watches and waits, she knows all too well how difficult atypical relationships can be.

Lexa’s heart pounds, flooding her ears. Her breath comes in short gasps. Her grip tightening on Octavia’s hand. _Raven_ came over with Anya. Their secret feels like it’s slipping out of her hands, one person could easily become more, and if it got back to work it could stall out her career before it even started. They had to be more careful.

She can feel the carefully constructed life she’s building crumbling around her, see the things she believes in ripped away from her. This secret of theirs. This marvelous, wonderful, beautiful secret of theirs could ruin their lives and she’s afraid of it.

Lexa closes her eyes wishing she could go back in time just a few moments, wondering what happened to her stoic resolve and vigilance. For years she would never have been caught in anything quite so compromising, not if she didn’t want to be… but being with Octavia and Clarke, her world narrows down to just them.

Her head spins.

There’s a creak and a shift as Octavia crawls over the back of the couch. Knees crash against knees as Octavia half falls, half curls up next to Lexa, holding onto her tightly to keep from sliding off the couch. Lexa grunts with the sudden weight of her girlfriend on top of her.

“It’s just Raven,” Octavia whispers. “This will be okay. We’re in this together.”

Lexa nods and breathes out.

Clarke glances to the couch. She can just make out Lexa trying to hold back tears as Octavia whispers to her, nose pressed to cheek, fingers brushing lightly through her hair. When she looks back up to Raven it’s with fear in her heart, tendrils of it wrapping around her throat. They decided to keep quiet. It isn’t time. Not ready for even their friends to know because secrets are volatile things, completely uncontrollable. Her mother knows, Anya knows… and now Raven knows. Raven who is looking at her like she doesn’t see the need for the panic, who they barely know but seems so nonplussed by the whole reveal that she might as well have already known.

“Octavia and I…” Clarke’s throat is dry. Coming out to her mother had been one thing, nerves running high because she needed to be accepted, but this is all about hoping her gut instinct is real. “We’re both dating Lexa.” She shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and waits.

Raven smiles, at first it’s soft, just a sparkle in her eyes, but when Clarke returns it, her face lights up, and she laughs lightly, dark amber eyes crinkling as she tilts her head. She looks from Clarke to Lexa and Octavia, a curious, almost sad look in her eyes.

She breathes out before grinning wide. “I thought there might be something between you all. I think it’s wonderful.”

Octavia stands up and tugs Lexa with her toward the the kitchen, as they both brush unshed tears away.

“Thank you,” Lexa says quietly as she catches Raven’s eye. Raven dips her chin, a small nearly imperceptible nod, as they hold each other’s gaze. An understanding passes between them. This is private, sacred, and more than anything Lexa is scared what may come of it, but there’s something in the way Raven looks at her that calms her frazzled nerves.

Octavia stands halfway between her girlfriends resisting the urge to reach out for them both. “We decided we’re not quite ready to tell anyone else yet. Anya already knew… and the only other person we’ve told is Clarke’s mom because she helped us with the house...”

“So I’m in on a secret then?” Raven’s grin is infectious and wild.

“You’re incorrigible, Reyes.” Anya rolls her eyes.

“Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. “ Raven winks.

## _______________________________________

 

An hour and a half and two stores later and Raven, Clarke, and Lexa are nearly done with the errands Octavia and Anya sent them on. Octavia had conveniently forgotten to do any of the errands she’d promised to get to after work and so they were left picking up nearly everything for the party. Which is exactly what Anya had needed them to do.

Now that they were out of the house though, they’re trying to cheer Lexa up. Which is increasingly difficult because Clarke just wants to go into girlfriend mode, but out in public that is the last thing she can do with Lexa, especially after they accidently came out to Raven, who thankfully, at least seems entirely unbothered by the entire reveal. As if she thinks three women dating is the most natural thing.

If only more people saw the beauty in love and didn’t get caught up so much in the logistics of who.

Raven tosses a bag of chips to Clarke, “What about these ones? I figure with the guys they’ll want a few kinds. Too bad we can’t sort out having a bar-b-queue on that back porch. Next summer is going to be amazing if you guys start having regular shindigs.”

Catching the chips, Clarke waits for Lexa to catch up to them with the cart. “Right. Even though it’s cold I wanted to, but now it’s raining… and we still haven’t bought a grill. What do you say, Lex? Bar-b-queue parties this summer?”

Lexa looks up as she hears her name. Her gaze has been fixed somewhere in the vicinity of the cart and she hasn’t been paying attention for a while. Not really. She’s been thinking they need rules in place, maybe starting with an always locked front door. At least then Anya will have to deal with getting her keys out and they’ll have a moment of warning if they’re in the living room to decouple.

It would be easier if they could just tell their friends, but she’s afraid if they do, if they let themselves be comfortable in front of the others that they’ll slip up in public. That one of their friends will forget and out them. Deep down she’s afraid they’ll lose someone important. And as much as she dislikes him she’s afraid that person will be Octavia’s brother.

“Earth to Lexa.” Clarke falls into step next to Lexa. “We’re going to be okay,” she whispers before continuing at a normal volume, “What do you think about getting a grill and we can have bar-b-queues all summer.” Clarke grins and catches another bag of chips from Raven.

“We can’t let that epic back porch go to waste when we actually get some sun in this city!” Raven laughs.

Lexa rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Do I get a choice?”

“Of course, you can help us pick out which grill we buy.”

Clarke’s phone vibrates in her pocket. Three text messages in a row, she can tell from the pattern of it.

Octavia, with an SOS.

Raven and Lexa talking about the best grill options fades into the background as Clarke checks her phone.

 _Octavia 2:55pm:_ Can you keep Lexa out another hour?

 _Octavia 2:55pm:_ this is a mess. but... it’ll be okay? Fuck.

 _Octavia 2:56pm:_ dudes had to take the front door off the hinges

 _Clarke 2:56pm:_ how the fuck? How big is this?

 _Octavia 2:56pm:_ I can’t believe this is a baby one. surprise in place tho. house not so much

 _Octavia 2:57pm:_ Anya is cleaning

 _Clarke 2:57pm:_ damn

 _Clarke 2:58pm:_ k. gotta cheer Lex up anyway.

 _Octavia: 2:58pm:_ how bad did I fuck up?

 _Clarke 2:58pm:_ this not your fault. she’ll come around, just be vigilant at the party yeah? even you and me. if one person is there that doesn’t know…

 _Octavia 2:59pm:_ got it

 _Clarke 3:00pm:_ she’s just so scared about her job

 _Octavia 3:00pm:_ i know

 _Octavia 3:00pm:_ i don’t want to ruin this. i keep fucking up

 _Clarke 3:01pm:_ we’ll get through this, okay? she’s with us. we’ll work through it

 _Clarke 3:01pm:_ see you in a hour

While Clarke had her head buried in her phone, paused in the middle of the chip aisle, Raven and Lexa had wandered further on, checking items off their shopping list and waiting for her to catch up. The conversation about grills had quickly fizzled into an amicable silence, but Lexa couldn’t help but feel that she was the reason the conversation ended.

The heavy weight of fear in her heart wouldn’t let go.

“Lexa?” Raven’s voice is cautious and she isn’t quite looking at Lexa, but looking ahead and keeping an eye on her out of the corner of her eye.

She makes a noncommittal questioning sound and leans forward onto the push bar of the shopping cart with her forearms. Taking a step she sets a foot on the bottom rack of the cart and pushes off with her other foot. Raven reaches out and steadies the cart in a straight path, gently coaxing the cart along further than it would have gone alone.

“I won’t tell anyone.” Her hand tightens around the edge of the cart and she slows it to a stop as she turns to face Lexa. She’s met with wide eyes and a blank expression but she can still read Lexa. The fear threatening to turn into pain that is thrumming through her. Raven takes a step closer, even though she isn’t sure why. “This isn’t my secret. It’s yours and Clarke’s and Octavia’s. I’d kind of be a terrible friend if I didn’t keep it.” She tilts her head to the side and smiles softly.

Lexa returns the soft smile and something inside her warms. “I appreciate this, Raven. We’re just not at a place where we’re ready for everyone to know.”

“Even though you live together?”

“Even so.”

Raven places a gentle hand on Lexa’s arm and gives it a slight squeeze. “You aren’t the only ones who have loved more than one person at the same time. I know how hard it can be.”

The look that passes over Lexa’s face is for a moment quizzical but quickly understanding. Of all their friends to have found them out, perhaps it was for the best that Raven learned about them first. She has a hundred questions, but now is neither the time nor the place, and their friendship is only just beginning.

## _______________________________________

 

Raven reaches the door first and turns to look at Lexa. Clarke is still in the driveway wrestling the car doors shut as she juggles the last of the bags from their shopping trip. But Raven isn’t paying attention to Clarke, she’s looking at Lexa.

She had something to ask, but turning around and finding herself eye to eye with Lexa gave her an answer. Lexa knows there’s something waiting for her behind her front door, more than just her other girlfriend and her sister. Raven ducks her head and breaks eye contact, not sure what the rising feeling in her chest means. She shakes her head and chalks it up to nerves.

The front door swings open easily and they’re met with quiet. Anya is curled into one of their chairs with a book, her feet propped on the ottoman. Octavia is sprawled on the couch, the tv turned on low, and she’s playing the new _Tomb Raider_ game. Raven calls out a hello and heads toward the kitchen to set down her bags.

The dining table has been moved to the nook between the kitchen and the pantry to make room for the piano in the center of the downstairs. It sits in front of the windows and the sliding glass door that lead out to the patio. The baby grand is a dark mahogany, nearly black, polished to an impossible shine, a dark mirror that drinks in the light of the room and reflects it back all at once.

Raven hears a gasp behind her and Lexa tightening her grip on the grocery bags.

“Anya?” Lexa whispers.

She can’t quite process the sight in front of her. Their parents’ piano, the one she’s barely touched in years is sitting in her living room. The piano that had been the first thing that made her feel like she was home, the thing that made Anya’s place feel like home after their parents had died. All of that was wrapped up and sitting in her living room. She clutches the grocery bags in her arms tighter crushing the chips. Of all the things she thought might be a surprise today, this is not one that had crossed her mind.

Her little planet plants spin lazily in the windowsill next to the piano.

“I thought it’s time you finally had it,” Anya barely glances up from her book, but Lexa can tell her sister is watching her every move intently.

Lexa isn’t sure where to go first, to the table to put the bags down or if she should move to the piano.

The piano that means home.

That _this_ is her home now.

She looks at Anya again, trying to comprehend how Anya always seems to know how she feels long before Lexa understands it herself. Anya had always said, that for those she cared for, Lexa wore her heart on her sleeve.

Raven takes the bags from her gently and when Lexa looks towards her she’s smiling and nods quickly toward the piano.

“Did you know?” Lexa whispers.

Raven grins. “Who do you think held Anya’s hand while they made a mess of her apartment getting that beauty out of it?”

“You did _not_ hold my hand while-” Anya sputters.

Raven hums. “If you say so.”

Lexa runs a hand gently over the keyboard cover before lifting it. She touches the keys without making a sound. “Does it need to be tuned?”

“It’s not too far out,” Anya says. “I have a tuner coming by later this week to see if it needs to be retuned because of the move. I’ve been maintaining it, so honestly it should be fine.”

Lexa looks up from the piano, still in awe. Octavia walks toward her slowly, hand in hand with Clarke. They both look nervous. “Is it okay that we said yes?” Octavia asks, almost timid.

And then Anya is there, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders. Lexa leans back against her sister. The girl who had no reason to protect her, to fight for her, but did every step of the way. Their entire life Anya’s been watching out for her, ensuring that she feels like she has a home at the end of the day. That no matter what happens she feels loved.

No matter who else comes in and out of her life, she will always have her sister, their bond is thicker than blood.

Lexa turns in Anya’s arms and embraces her, whispering quiet thanks against her ear. She inhales and sniffles, trying not to let the tears in her eyes fall.

“Hey, now, none of that,” Anya murmurs and moves Lexa to arms length to look at her. “The piano has always been yours, I was just waiting for you to realize that.”

Lexa nods rapidly and turns back to her girlfriends realizing she never answered Octavia’s question. “It’s very much okay. Thank you.”

“You know, you never told us you could play piano.” Clarke teases and leans her head on Octavia’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around her waist. She rocks them back and forth slightly as Octavia leans into her.

Lexa rolls her eyes and settles fluidly down onto the piano bench. “Well, you never told me you could sing either.” She tilts her head, more challenge than motion. Two can play this game. “I’ve heard you sing in the shower.”

Clarke shakes her head and settles more solidly against Octavia. “Nuh-uh. Singing in the shower doesn’t count.”

“The way you sing it does,” Octavia nudges Clarke and kisses the top of her head. “Now you have accompaniment.”

“Who says I’m singing?” Clarke straightens up but doesn’t step away.

“Come on, Clarke, entertain us. It’ll still be a bit before the others get here.” Raven coaxes. She doesn’t want to intrude on the moment, but she can’t help but want this for them. The way she sees Lexa break open with her family and her loves surrounding her, the wonder and awe in glistening eyes. All Raven wants is all of them to know that what they share, that secret, is safe with her. That she cherishes being witness to her friends’ happiness, even as it makes her heart ache that she may never find something this beautiful for herself.

Raven pulls a chair from the kitchen table closer and spins it around to straddle it backwards. She watches as Anya slides onto the piano bench next to Lexa and whispers something to her. Octavia pulls Clarke close for a gentle kiss and a quiet word. They part with a squeeze of their hands. Octavia sinks to the floor, leaning back on her hands; Clarke takes a tentative step toward the piano and Lexa.

For a moment she feels like an outsider, but Octavia glances in her direction and smiles, and Raven remembers that these people consider her a friend as she does them.

Lexa plays a slow series of chords. They’re familiar at once and Raven doesn’t quite place them. Then she switches, another series of notes, all at once familiar, before she changes again. Raven realizes Lexa’s playing songs from memory.

“So what will it be?” Lexa asks, looking up at Clarke.

“What do you know?”

“She can play nearly any song she’s ever heard more than once.” Anya says, and there’s pride in the way she looks at Lexa. Raven’s heart aches, remembering what it was like to have her family around her, supporting her. She settles down further into her chair.

Lexa dips her chin looking down at her hands on the keys, a thin blush creeps across her cheeks.

“Seriously?” Octavia asks.

Lexa shrugs and tries to keep from smiling, but she plays the first few chords of one of the songs Octavia practically has on repeat in the gym they’ve set up in one of the spare rooms.

“I guess the question is, what songs do you know, Clarke?”

“I suppose you know my repertoire as well as I do.”

Lexa smiles, and it transforms her face. The cold beautiful stoicism melts away, becoming playful and warm. Her hands dance across the keys playing an introduction, one eyebrow raised as she waits for Clarke’s approval.

Raven crosses her forearms on the back of the chair and leans her chin on them.

Clarke nods and it seems for a moment Clarke and Lexa exist only for each other as the music spills out of Lexa’s fingertips. At first Clarke’s voice is soft, quiet, as if she’s not quite sure, but Lexa nods to her and her voice gets stronger, low and raspy in ways Raven didn’t expect. Clarke turns to Octavia who is grinning as she watches and listens.

It’s evident the love they hold for each other. The gentle support and the way they look at each other like the only moment that matters is the one they’re in together.

Raven lets the song wash over her.

 _Settle down with me_  
_And I'll be your safety_  
_You'll be my lady_  
_I was made to keep your body warm_  
_But I'm cold as the wind blows so hold me in your arms_  
_My heart's against your chest, your lips pressed to my neck_  
_I'm falling for your eyes, but they don't know me yet_

She rolls her eyes, because only could these girls make her heart sore over a love song not meant for her. Raven tries not to think about the loss and brokenness her own love life has brought her. The trauma that both Wick and Finn brought to her life in vastly different ways. One survivable, the other haunting. She isn’t sure which is which. And then there was the girl, Luna was her name... she loved her, the one she doesn’t talk about, because no one would understand. The one that held her hand as her boyfriend died. The one that held her for a while before she had to leave.

Raven inhales and holds back the tears pricking at her eyes, and does her best to focus on the love and friendship and happiness surrounding her. This is what she has now. And for now this is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask).  
> As always read more about the girls [here, on the vaguely organized fic page](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) or just check out the [fic tag](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/tagged/ot4-fic) for all the asks.


	15. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 1 | 1 year ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re back! In case you missed my announcement on Wednesday. The response was amazing you guys <3\. Also, thank you all for being such wonderful readers and not one of you said anything negative about the hiatus. That really means a lot to me and I’m so happy I was able to make my predicted return date. Thank you for being patient. I hope you’re ready to hop back on this rollarcoaster
> 
> Translations for the portuguese at the end of the chapter.

Seven months later and the summer sun feels like bliss in their backyard.  _ Their backyard _ . Lexa rolls the thought over in her mind and a smile curls at the corner of her mouth.

She drops the hand holding the tattered book she's reading, re-reading really, over the edge of the hammock. She’s half in a sun drenched stupor, half asleep, and half floating. In her hand is her copy of  _ The Little Prince  _ she’s been carrying around since she was seven. If you hold the book one way the story is in English, hold it the other and it's in French. She could practically recite it in either language, the words like a comforting blanket wrapping around her mind and soothing the anxious tick that settles in just behind her ear. 

Anya had given her the book, nicked it from a foster house they'd been at for a couple of nights, after she found Lexa on the roof staring at the stars. Lexa had held onto it tighter than anything else she had ever owned. All her life she's tried to keep the words close to her heart even when she kept her heart locked up tight. 

_ I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced man. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never done anything but add up figures. And all day he says, ‘I am busy with matters of consequence.’ _

For so many years after Costia left Lexa had dealt solely with matters of consequence. She had forgotten to live. No, forgotten is the the wrong word. Lexa sighs. She refused to, afraid that she would feel. Even as Anya urged her to listen to her heart she had stayed adamant, refused to even look at the stars. 

The sound of Clarke giggling infiltrates her thoughts and sun-warmed haze. She cracks one eye open and watches as Octavia tucks a flower behind Clarke’s ear, weaving it into her hair, an addition to the lopsided flower crown Clarke already wears. Clarke leans forward kissing Octavia, pushing her back into the grass, the two of them laughing and rolling in the sun dappled backyard.

Her heart soars with the sight, and she’s content in her hammock as she watches. This last year has been kind to them and their love, giving it soft places to blossom and grow. She feels safe and has hope for the first time in years, and yet there’s a nagging sensation in the back of her head that there’s something missing from this picture of domestic bliss.

Lexa wishes she knew what it was.

Even as Clarke crosses into her field of vision, blocking out the sun, so she’s haloed in light and flowers, her blonde hair glowing like spun gold, Lexa can’t help but feel the root of something sad hook into her chest. Clarke grins shyly, whispering  _ hey _ , as she carefully straddles Lexa in the hammock, laying down on top of her with a practiced ease. The first dozen or so times she had tried this they had both ended up dazed and confused in a tangle of limbs on the ground.

This time it’s perfect as they sway slightly.

Clarke takes a flower from her hair and tucks it into the crown braid Octavia had woven Lexa’s hair into earlier. Lexa brushes her nose against Clarke’s. She lets the book fall to the grass below as she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist, gently tugging her close. Clarke’s kisses are light, one to her lips, another to the edge of her jaw, a third to her neck as she nuzzles her face against the skin exposed by Lexa’s tank top.

Lexa glances toward Octavia, sprawled on the grass, one arm thrown across her eyes to block out the sun, and her heart aches. She’s full of love, bursting with it, and knowing, utterly that her worry is unfounded.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven drops into the ergonomic chair behind her desk, sitting just on the edge and not at all in a way that takes advantage of of the benefits of the chair. She doesn’t care because she just needs to sit for a few minutes before she leaves campus. It’s been a long week. Summer term is always killer, teaching every day, long classes, students that need extra attention because they’re trying to catch up so next year they aren’t behind. Elbows on the desk, she rests her head in her hands. She loves teaching sometimes, but right now she could use a drink.

That would involve calling someone to go out and the last thing she wants to do is check her phone.

Wick texted her this morning, begging her to call him back. Her ex, the one she thought was gone from her life forever. After a few weeks of following her around after the break up he had left her alone. Something had turned him off. She never questioned it, but now his name was showing up on her phone again and her stomach was heavy with worry.

She should just call him and get it over with. Hear him out, turn him down again, then maybe he’ll leave her alone. At least for a little while longer, and perhaps this time he’ll get bored of waiting for her to change her mind, move on. Raven can’t bring herself to see him again, the idea of it gnaws at her stomach, or maybe that’s hunger pangs, she’s barely been able to eat since he started reaching out to her again.

It doesn’t help that the only other person calling her is her mother, who she is also actively ignoring at the moment. Summer is when the annual campaign to  _ get Raven home for the holidays _ begins, and it’s not that she doesn’t want to see her or her  _ Vovó _ , it’s just that even after all these years she isn’t ready to face going home again. Not with Finn gone, not after what happened with Wick.

“Knock, knock,” Bellamy leans against the door frame to her office, two cups of coffee in hand, hair mussed from a long day. His grin pushes through the fog in her head, at least she still has her friends.

“Hey, Bell.” Raven slouches back in her chair, legs stretched out in front of her.

“I figured you’d be gone by now, class run late?” He takes two long strides across the room and sets one of the cups of overboiled break room coffee down in front of Raven before slumping down into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk.

“Grading, the usual.” Raven reaches for the coffee, blowing on it for a moment before taking a sip. “I just couldn’t sit still long enough to get anything done. And I was avoiding the new TA.”

“Poor boy just can’t resist your charm, who could blame him,” Bellamy laughs. “You get to the gym at all this week? I hate teaching summer classes, there’s barely time to do anything else.”

Raven shakes her head and sighs. She’s barely slept lately, “Every night this week.” Her physical therapist is going to be furious. If she loses much more weight she’ll need to get fitted for a new socket for her prosthetic, but she can’t quit going to the gym it’s the only thing keeping her sane these days.

“Lucky, I swear I haven’t thought about anything but ancient Greece all week,” he scowls and takes a drink of his coffee.

“That sounds like every week for you,” Raven laughs. “You are the boy who suggested his mother name his sister  _ Octavia, _ after all.”

“You’re never going to let go of the fact that I named my half-sister after Augustus’ half-sister are you?”

“Nope. You are such a nerd, Bellamy Blake.”

“Guilty as charged,” he grins and tosses his empty cup into the trash next to Raven’s desk. “Want to grab chinese on our way across campus?”

Raven’s phone buzzes twice and she doesn’t bother to glance at it, but the pool of dread in her stomach is more than enough to keep her curiosity at bay for now. She doesn’t want to face another series of texts from Wick right now. Not after the long day she’s had. She hates that she might be missing a text from someone she might actually want to talk to, like Anya, or Octavia, or Clarke, or Lexa. Even a message from Monty or Jasper would be a welcome distraction. 

She just wants to be able to focus on her lab and on teaching as this might be a pivotal year. There are rumors that she might be up for tenure soon, which would mean more money for her research, and access to grad students instead of just undergrads for assistants. She’s worked her ass off to get here and she’s not about to let her ex ruin anything else for her.

Raven shakes her head, dragging herself back into the present. Her stomach rumbles and she’s about to agree to Bellamy’s suggestion for dinner when she hears footsteps running down the hall. 

Jasper skids pat her door and backs up a few steps until he’s in frame, out of breath, hands on his knees as he signals for Raven and Bellamy to wait a moment. They exchange a look and Raven shrugs.

“You gotta,” he takes a step into the room and doubles over again, breathing heavily, “Come see this.”

Raven is halfway to standing, wondering what the hell Jasper and Monty, who are supposed to be monitoring the engineering lab, have managed to get themselves into this time. Last time they’d modded a roomba to document the science department and it ended up taking a photo up the Department Head’s skirt. It wasn’t their finest hour.

“Nothing exploded?”

Jasper grins, “Not yet!”

Bellamy groans, “I’m going to leave you to your science and go grab dinner. Just, make sure the building doesn’t explode. If the science hall goes down so does history and I really like the view from my office.” He’s in the hall before Raven can reply.

She yells after him, “Office hours aren’t for staring at the co-eds!”

An indistinguishable grunt comes from the hall in response as Bellamy’s footsteps fade.

Raven shakes her head and pushes all the way to standing. “It isn’t going to explode is it?” she tries to hide a grin of excitement. Sometimes she has the absolute best job.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven slows her pace, jogging in place as she hits the crosswalk button before coming to a halt. She bends at the waist, digging her thumbs into her left thigh to ease some of the tension in her hip flexor and trying to ignore the fact that it feels like there’s a blister forming underneath her prosthetic. That would be a problem for later, when she could asses the damage and talk to her physical therapist. She shakes her legs out bouncing back and forth between her foot and the running blade. Raven glances to Octavia next to her, sweat soaked and stretching while they wait for the light. No time to worry about her leg now, not when they were so close to finishing their run. 

They had been running partners for almost a year now. Somewhere between sitting on the floor of their new house and teasing Bellamy over drinks the following week she had found herself becoming friends with the other Blake and her girlfriends. Raven is certain she’s one of a very select few people that know the three of them are together, not even Bellamy is privy to that detail of his sister’s life. 

She shakes out her leg as they jog, trying to relieve some of the building tension. The running blade slaps against the ground in a steady beat and it lulls Raven back into the run. She’d been told she might not walk normally again… as normally as a person with only half a leg can walk anyway. She hadn’t been a runner before the accident and her physical therapist told her any physical activity would be an uphill battle.

Raven is nothing if not stubborn.

It’s been seven years and she’s probably in the best shape of her life. And slowly, after everything it feels like things are coming together. She’s building her life again, that maybe this strange group of friends will be her family. And maybe one day she’ll feel like she can even face going home.

Raven’s lungs burn with each breath, but they’re only a few blocks from the park as they round the next corner. She grins, watching Octavia light up as she spots Clarke and Lexa sprawled on a blanket in the park two blocks away. The half smile that tugs at Octavia’s lips as she tries to downplay her reaction is echoed in her eyes – the way they sparkle with an unbridled excitement, it wraps around Raven’s heart. She’s happy to see her friend so alive with love, and to know that she’s privy to a beautiful secret fills her with joy.

Their love is like an underground river, hidden, but more powerful than anyone imagines.

Quietly, in the back of her mind, she wonders if she’ll ever find someone who loves her like that. 

Raven sucks in a deep breath of air and pushes herself to keep up with Octavia’s burst of energy. Just one more block and she can collapse beside her friends on that blanket. Drink down a gallon of water and maybe pass out for a few minutes. Maybe one day she’ll find that burst of energy from seeing the person she loves. The person that looks at her like she’s the only one in the world that matters. That the strangeness of her leg doesn’t make her less or  _ other _ but is just part of who she is – why would someone need her any other way?

A screech of breaks cuts through Raven’s thoughts and the world stops. Raven wraps her arms around Octavia and they tumble backwards.

There’s a curse from the driver that he spits out the open window.

And the thud of Raven’s back hitting a parked car.

A scream that sounds a lot like Clarke.

And another set of curses from Raven and Octavia as they tumble to the asphalt.

Time starts again.

The driver speeds up. The road is otherwise quiet, the sidewalk void of people. 

Raven doesn’t let go of Octavia, holding her close even as she can feel her skinned arm and bruised side protest. Their breathing comes in heavy gasps, hearts beating a frantic rhythm in tandem. She doesn’t know if she can let go, needing the reminder that they’re both alive. 

The car came around the corner too fast. One more step and they would have both been hit. Raven squeezes her arms tighter and presses her face  to the back of Octavia’s neck. They are both sweaty and bloody, but alive. They’ll run again another day.

“Raven?” Octavia squeezes her bicep to get her attention. “We okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.” Raven mutters. She’s acutely aware of Octavia pressed up against her, the press of her back against Raven’s chest as she breathes, the heat and the sweat... Raven realizes it’s been too long since she’s been this close to someone. Her cheeks flush and she quickly loosens her grip on Octavia who scrambles to her feet.

They’re only shaken. That’s all. The blue sky above and warm breeze seem incongruous. Raven holds out her hand, “Help me up?”

Octavia’s hand is slick with blood dripping down her arm. They grip each other’s wrists and Octavia tugs Raven to standing effortlessly. 

Raven feels the sharp tug of raw skin across her arm as muscles flex and contract. They may have escaped getting hit but they didn’t escape completely unscathed. She can already feel places where she’ll have bruises come morning. Raven tests her weight on both her legs before bending over to check her prosthetic for damage. Luckily nothing seems worse for the fall.

“Everything in order?” Octavia’s hand hovers over Raven’s shoulder, clearly wanting to help and wondering if it’s okay. “Sorry I fell on you, I didn’t mean to but if you hadn’t of grabbed me that idiot would have run me over… thank you.”

Raven rolls her eyes. She’s fine, she really is. Bending her arm she examines the scrape running from her wrist to elbow. Maybe not entirely fine, but nothing time won’t fix. “Don’t mention it, I didn’t really want to have to break in a new running partner,” she smirks. It’s easier to joke and move on than dwell on the reality.

“Octavia!” Clarke’s voice is harried as she rushes across the street. She’s reaching for Octavia before she comes to a stop next to them, gently prodding and turning her, examining the damage.  Glancing up briefly Clarke turns to Raven, their eyes meet and Raven notices Clarke’s are blown wide with fear, nearly black and white, her pupils engulfing her irises as she tries to process. Clarke lifts Raven’s arm to check out the damage. “Anything broken?”

Octavia shakes her head, “Nothing a few bandages and neosporin won’t fix.”

“And maybe a pint or two,” Raven adds.

Lexa jogs up behind them, the first-aid kit she keeps in her car in hand. “Just blood or broken bones?”

Octavia holds up her hand and wiggles her blood covered fingers, “Just blood.”

“I wish we had been closer. I didn’t catch the license plate number. I can’t believe he didn’t stop.”

There’s a flutter of agreement as they wait for the light to change again, wait to make sure no cars are coming around the corner. Raven is the first to step off the curb and into the street. Lexa’s hand is light on her back as she follows close. Raven trembles with the proximity, the familiarity of it, and the way it doesn’t feel like Lexa is trying to help her because of her leg, but just because it’s Lexa and she’s Raven, so of course she’s there.

Raven’s side feels bruised and her arm is on fire from the scrape, but she’s endured worse. She glances to Octavia and Clarke hovering by her side, hands worrying as they try to soothe, and Raven isn’t sure who needs the attention more, Octavia or Clarke.

Lexa wraps her arm around Raven’s shoulders for a brief moment as they step from concrete to grass. Her breath brushes Raven’s ear and she presses her nose into Raven’s hair, “I’m glad your reflexes are fast.” She holds onto Raven, allowing Clarke to take care of Octavia. Later tonight she’ll hold them both.

“Me too,” Raven whispers.

Clarke’s hands shake each time she lets go of Octavia. They tumble to the blanket, Clarke spreading out the first aid kit, lips pursed in a thin white line. Lexa kneels and helps Raven down to the ground. Silence falls over them as wounds are cleaned. White gauze turns red, as Lexa and Clarke clean debris from wounds, and bandage the raw ragged road rashed skin.

Clarke traces her fingers down Octavia’s arm and refuses to meet her eyes. She was there that day, she knows what is rushing through her head and she doesn’t want to acknowledge the thought, doesn’t want to make it real.

This was just a scare, nothing a week or two won’t heal.

Clarke pulls Octavia into her lap and buries her face against the back of Octavia’s neck, breathing in her girlfriend’s scent, feeling her heartbeat strong, a slow steady pulse that resonates like a drum beat through her.

There’s a trembling in her arms that she can’t stop and she knows she should be fine. She wasn’t the one who was nearly hit by a speeding car. And Octavia is fine, Raven is fine, Lexa is here, and they’re fine,  _ they’re fine _ . Clarke feels like she’s drowning in memories from ten years past. The car jumping the curb. Her dad pushing the kid out of the way. She can still feel the ache in her knees as she hit the concrete, helpless to do anything but watch her father die.

Clarke breathes in Octavia again, fighting back the sour taste of bile on the back of her tongue that burns as she swallows it back down. Everything will be fine.

Lexa, Octavia, and Raven are talking, but Clarke isn’t really listening until she feels Octavia laughing in her arms. Her girlfriend presses a kiss to her temple, “You alright?” Octavia asks.

“Of course,” Clarke answers trying to sound more certain than she feels.

Octavia kisses her once lightly, cupping Clarke’s chin, then again, deeper, searching, hoping for the truth. She pours herself into the kiss, every part of her that is fine, every part of her that wants to reassure Clarke that she is. Anything to stop the fine tremor running through Clarke. Octavia doesn’t care that the kiss is probably earning them stares from strangers, all she cares about in that moment is the woman she’s tangled up in. She pulls back, her gaze is questioning. “Are you certain?”

“I am.”

_ She is, _ Clarke promises herself. She’s okay. She will be.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s been two weeks since Octavia nearly ran out in front of a car, and really it seems like everything is really is okay.

Clarke and Octavia and Lexa have each other and the little life their building together and near accidents aside it feels like for the first time in a long while everything is going right. What’s a few bumps along the way? They have each other, and they have their friends.

Not that all their friends know they have each other, which sometimes gets tricky.

Anya knows, but then again, Anya seemed to have things figured out before they did. They still haven’t told Niylah or Lincoln. And Raven knows because she’s observant, and over the past nine months she’s moved from being Bellamy’s friend to being theirs as well, spending several days a week hanging out with them; it would have been impossible for her not to have figured them out. Bellamy still hasn’t, but no one’s invited him over since he helped them move in and felt he had the right to threaten Lexa.

Bellamy is a point of contention, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still seeing him regularly. Like at their semi-regular dinners with everyone, or almost everyone, depending upon the week. 

It’s Friday night and they’re packed around the largest singular table at the restaurant in one of those circular booths. Bellamy is sitting on one end next to Lincoln. Octavia is squished between Lincoln and Niylah who is next to Clarke. Anya is seated next to her, followed by Lexa, and Raven rounds out the group, sitting on the end of the booth so she doesn’t have to deal with the awkward crawling in and out. 

All eight of them packed into a booth made to seat six comfortably. It works.

Raven leans back and stretches out her left leg, trying to get some movement in her hip without standing up. She spent all day hunched over her desk at work, immobile, and she’s paying for it, but she needed to get grades done before the weekend hits. Octavia had promised they’d go running tomorrow morning and that had been the only reason she’d allowed herself to skip the gym. She rubs at her thigh and sighs, pushing at the old familiar aching want in the back of her mind, half her leg is gone and she’ll never be the same.

In some ways her life is a wonderful thing she never expected.

Almost everyone is laughing, talking to someone else, but Anya has her nose in her phone. Raven balls up a corner of her paper napkin and aims it at the blonde. It hits her square in the forehead and Anya glances up, narrowing her eyes at Raven, but Raven knows she isn’t actually angry from the twitch at the corner of her mouth where she’s hiding a smile. 

Raven grins, “Yo, I thought we were here to hang out with each other, not, you know, stare cross-eyed at our phones.”

Anya sits up and lets out a long sigh for dramatic effect. “Some of us have jobs to attend to.”

“Anya,” Lexa starts. “It’s Friday night. You have minions to take care of things…”

“Just let me finish this email.”

“It’s Saturday morning in Milan, no one is going to need that email in the next few hours,” Raven teases.

“Wait. I have an idea,” Niylah cuts in. “But everyone has to be game. People do this at the bar all the time. The catch is the loser has to pay the tab.”

Clarke glances up from her phone, hidden in her lap, “I think I know where you’re going with this but continue…” 

“Everyone has to put their phone face down on the table,” Niylah grins.

A collective groan goes up, Octavia rolling her eyes, Anya crossing her arms, Clarke pouting. They’ve all watched this game played out by groups of drunks at The Trading Post.

“Who else is going to message most of you anyway?” Bellamy slaps his phone face down on the table and nudges it toward the center.

Several indignant protests pop up.

“I have  _ other _ friends you know,” Lincoln mutters as he slides his phone out of his pocket and places it next to Bellamy’s.

“You know I’m like the only one that texts you,” Octavia laughs and nudges him. He shakes his head.

“You aren’t the only one,” he quips defensively, but he’s grinning.

“Yeah, sometimes it’s me,” Niylah teases.

Anya takes a sip of her wine, her phone still gripped tightly between her index finger and thumb. “What if I get a work call?”

“First person to pick up their phone, for whatever reason, picks up the tab, if no one picks up their phone, we all pay our own share,” Niylah lays her phone down on the table and pushes it towards the center.

Lexa slides hers into the pile, grinning, “Alright, I’m in. Free dinner, care of sis, sounds excellent.”

“I’m all for Anya picking up the tab,” Raven grins and sets her phone on top of Lexa’s.

Octavia and Clarke lean forward at the same moment their phones hitting the table with a thunk.

“We’re in,” Octavia grins. “Free dinner sounds good to me.”

All that’s left is Anya. Seven pairs of eyes turn toward her and she rolls her own in response, arms crossed. They wait. “Fine,” she sighs exasperated, “But I don’t know why you all think I’m going to crack first.” She sets down her slim gold engraved phone on top of a cardboard coaster to keep it from touching the table.

“Because I don’t think I’ve seen you ever set your phone down for more than five minutes before,” Raven smirks.

“Like you’re any better.”

Raven’s phone buzzes, signalling an incoming text message. Anya raises a delicately arched eyebrow at her. Raven shrugs. “Ah yes, but unlike you I don’t immediately jump to the very beck and call of my adoring fans,” She laughs. It’s too late for it to be anything to do with the lab at the university and there are others on the call list. She takes a sip of her beer deciding this officially means she can’t go in if called.

Only a handful of minutes pass before someone gets a notification, and then another. Then someone’s phone buzzes in quick succession, earning a laugh from the group. It buzzes again, six times, in the silence that follows.

“Okay who the fuck’s phone is that?” Bellamy asks taking a swig of his beer.

Octavia glances around the table, “Anyone who texts me is here.”

The phone buzzes again and Raven glances at the pile, “I think it’s mine.”

As if on cue the phone buzzes several more times, like a flurry of one word texts, sent in excitement, anger, maybe exasperation at the previous texts having gone unanswered. Everyone around the table falls silent, watching as Raven’s phone buzzes again, and again, and again, vibrating so hard it slips off of the pile.

“ _ Bosta _ ,” Raven mutters under her breath.

“You can check it if you want,” Niylah offers with a shrug, hiding behind a sip of her drink.

Raven eyes it, wondering who would be so insistent on texting her. Most of her friends are here and it’s too late for either Monty or Jasper to be texting her about a lab disaster. Curiosity gets the better of her and she slips the cold glass phone into her hand. It vibrates again, three text messages in succession light up across the screen.  _ Kyle Wick _ .

Raven’s blood runs cold and her heart starts pounding. She hasn’t heard from him in almost a month and she was just beginning to feel like he might be backing down now that a year has passed since she broke up with him.

Changed addresses.

Changed her locks, twice.

Changed her phone number.

Her thumb trembles as she flips the  _ Do Not Disturb _ on. At least she won’t know if he’s still texting for the rest of dinner. She tosses the phone back into the pile and presses her hands flat against her thighs. She scratches her nails along her jeans, her left hand searching out the hole in the pre-distressed material. Raven breathes out again as her nails sink into her flesh, scratching red angry lines.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a laugh that hopefully doesn’t sound as forced as it is, “Dinner’s on me I guess.”

“We haven’t even ordered yet, it’s hardly fair,” Lexa says softly and nudges Raven with her elbow.

“Those are the rules though,” Raven isn’t quite sure why she’s protesting other than she wants everyone to be focusing on something other than the fact that her phone is blowing up with notifications from someone and she doesn’t want to have to explain that her ex-boyfriend is a little obsessed with her and sometimes he gets like this.

She doesn’t want to tell her friends, two of whom are cops, another of whom is a lawyer, and two others who would probably jump into a fight without question that she might have a stalker. Besides, it isn’t that bad yet. It’s not like he’s shown up at her apartment again yet. That hasn’t happened since the time she came home to him sitting on her couch and six dozen roses three months after they had broken up.

“Dude, now everyone’s just going to order expensive shit because they know you’re picking up the tab.” Niylah sets down her menu. “Game starts over now, if you check your phone to read the fifty or so text messages you have, then you can pay.”

Raven shakes her head, laughing and catches Niylah winking at her. She feels a flush in her cheeks before she can stomp it down, and she knows she’s been single too long if she’s letting her friends get to her like this. “Alright, if you say so. Everyone else alright with that?”

“One condition, tell us who the mystery texter is, who thinks they deserve all your attention on a Friday night, when you’re clearly supposed to be spending it with friends.” Anya smiles slyly at Raven across Lexa.

Raven shakes her head, laughing silently at Anya. “No one important,” the words catch in her throat. “Just an ex,” she mutters.

Raven doesn’t miss the way Clarke tilts her head, one eyebrow raised in question and worry, and she knows the other girl won’t say anything, not in front of everyone. It’s clear though that Clarke hasn’t missed that Raven is worried about the influx of text messages.

Lexa reaches under the table and squeezes Raven’s arm for a brief moment. “In that case, you’re definitely not paying for dinner.”

Raven misses Anya slip the waiter her credit card after they order their food, but Clarke doesn’t. She sees Anya reach behind Lexa, giving the waiter all he needs to know with a single look. No one else is paying tonight, no arguments. So when Anya conveniently reaches for her phone absentmindedly at the end of dinner to check a text nobody noticed come in they don’t realize that Anya just signs the check and puts her card away, all too happy for the free meal and the predictability of Anya’s phone addiction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Vovó = grandma  
> Bosta = fuck
> 
> _____  
> Hit me up here or [on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, incase you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new headcanon questions answered [on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome).


	16. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 2 | 11 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the incredibly supportive welcome back! I can't express how much it means to me.
> 
> per usual, translations for the Portuguese are at the end.

Raven slides into Anya’s car after dinner without a word. She curls into the familiar leather seat, her phone is clutched tightly in her hand. She’s afraid to check her messages, afraid what it might mean, afraid what might be waiting for her at home.

It’s unlikely Wick has been able to find her new apartment.

Still, as she clicks her seatbelt in place, Raven can’t stop her hands from trembling. Wick broke her down and she refuses to go back to him. He stripped her of her strength and the belief she held in herself. He made her into a weak thing, dependent on his version of reality to survive.

The memories crush the air from her lungs.

Anya starts the car, the sleek grey machine purring underneath them. Her long fingers tap against the steering wheel as if she’s debating whether or not to break the silence. The darkness and the silence stretches on for three blocks only broken by the sound of her ring against the steering wheel.

“Was that him?” Anya asks. 

Of course she remembers the offhanded comment Raven had made once about an abusive ex. Raven flips her phone over in her hands, not answering. She can’t get the words past her throat, they stick there making it hard to swallow, the pressure of them building up until there are tears pricking her eyes. She sniffs loudly trying to keep the tears from falling, trying to keep herself together.

“Damn Reyes, I just-” Anya glances at Raven and stops short. Her fingers flex and grip the steering wheel. “You should talk to Octavia, make a report.”

Anya reaches across the car and squeezes Raven’s shoulder, her thumb rubbing small circles for a moment.

“You going soft on me?” Raven rasps and raises an eyebrow, tilting her head. Anya lets out a bark of laughter.

“Just making sure you didn’t need distracting tonight.”

The energy in the car shifts. She’ll be okay. They’re okay. Raven has people around her this time, she has friends. This won’t be like last time.

“You wish,” Raven rolls her eyes. They’ve come close a few times on drunken nights, but both of them value their friendship more than a tumble in bed together.

Anya laughs again, and returns her hand to the steering wheel. “Good, thought I was going to have to take one for the team there for a moment.”

Raven gasps in mock horror, offense that sleeping with her would be anything but a gift.

“What  _ is _ your type, anyway?” Anya asks. “In the past year I’ve not seen you so much as look at someone like you want to take them home for a bit of fun, and yet, I feel like things used to be different for you.”

Raven twists in her seat to regard Anya, trying to decide how seriously to answer the inquiry. They haven’t talked much about before, vague mentions of Wick and Finn and the accident… but never anything too serious. Nothing about Luna, who helped her through Finn’s illness. Anya is good at not prodding unless it’s needed, she’s good at knowing when not to push a subject, and when something needs to be discussed. Rarely does she let curiosity get the better of her. She’s feisty and strong and beautiful… and under different circumstances.

“In another life you’d do.”

Anya grins and shakes her mane of curly blonde hair, light against her naturally bronze skin, even in the dark of the car.

“Oh, darling, that’s no answer at all, you know I’m everyone’s type.”

Raven laughs but her heart isn’t in it as she leans back in her seat and flicks on her phone. In a different life maybe things would be better. In a different life maybe finding someone would be as easy as looking up at a friend.

##  _______________________________________

 

To say that this week at work had been long was an understatement. Octavia leans back in their usual booth at The Trading Post bar and closes her eyes as she waits for Lincoln to get back with their drinks. This week alone she’s been assigned to three separate cases, two involving the custody of small children and it feels like she’s being run through an emotional wringer. Her heart aches with each terrible decision she watches the parents and guardians make. At least this week there aren’t any missing children cases. Those are the worst.

Octavia cracks one eye open as she hears heavy pint glasses being sat on the table. Somehow Lincoln managed the walk from the bar without spilling a drop and both glasses are full to the brim with dark amber liquid.

Lifeblood, second only to coffee.

She sits up, pulling her pint closer, breathing it in, but she stops herself before she drinks half of it down. Instead she takes a small sip and lets out a heavy breath as she realizes that what she wants most in that moment is to be home with Clarke and Lexa. She stretches out her arms and examines the almost healed scab on the palm of her hand.

“What happened?” Lincoln ventures, turning the pint glass in his hand. He’s not quite looking at it, not quite looking at Octavia and she knows him well enough to know which direction this conversation is going. And he isn’t asking about her injury because he’s already heard multiple versions of that story. When she doesn’t answer but with another sip of beer he continues. “You and Clarke. It’s not the same, it’s almost like you aren’t dating anymore, but you’re both living in that fancy new house with Lexa.”

Octavia tilts her head to the side and studies her beer, sighing heavily again, remembering the promises she’s made and what they mean to the women she loves. “Nothing happened, per se…”

“Just like nothing is bothering you about the case at work?” Lincoln tosses a balled up napkin at her, teasing.

“That’s an unfair comparison.” Octavia turns her pint glass around in her hand. “You know sometimes shit like this gets personal even when I try to keep my distance.” It’s eating at her not being able to say anything about how her relationship has changed, how happy she is. And as she glowers into her beer she realizes the opposing feelings are waging war inside her. They might tear her apart.

Her love isn’t something that sits well beneath the surface of her skin. She wears it like a protective shield, it colors everything she does, driving her forward in grand sweeping gestures, propelling her towards her best. Even if she is impulsive and has a tendency to nearly destroy the parts of her life that make her feel like living.

Octavia takes a long drink of her beer and sinks into herself, wondering if she can change enough to keep her and Lexa and Clarke together.

“So you going to tell me what’s going on between you and Lexa?”

“She’s my roommate,” Octavia spits out. It feels like the worst kind of lie.

“Or Clarke and Lexa?” Lincoln’s voice is soft and he reaches for Octavia’s hand. His touch is warm and familiar and Octavia can’t bring herself to pull away despite the tears pricking her eyes. “Come on, O. I know you. I know Clarke. I’m getting to know Lexa. And I can tell something happened… You trust me right?”

“Always,” Octavia’s voice trembles and she tightens her grip on her pint glass. She can’t look up at Lincoln, she can’t look him in the face and deny the truth. She can’t lie to him. They were together for years and he’ll always be in her heart, not telling him about Lexa feels like a betrayal, but if she says anything she’ll be betraying Lexa and Clarke.

Her hand spasms around his; she squeezes her eyes shut.

When she feels Lincoln let go of her hand she feels her heart drop into her stomach. And she wonders if this is part of the sacrifice she has to make to keep her relationship. The thought of losing Lexa or Clarke makes her sick. The thought of hurting her best friend only slightly less so.

When she feels Lincoln slide into the booth next to her, wrap his arm around her shoulders, she collapses into him.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispers. “But I’m here if you decide you want to talk.”

Octavia nods, her throat tight, and she knows that if she says anything at all the threatening tears will fall. She wants to tell Lincoln. She wants to get to tell him how happy being with both of them makes her. She wants to talk to him about how hard it is for her to not scream her happiness from the metaphorical rooftops. Maybe even actual rooftops.

She wants to run away from the world. Take everyone she loves with her. Forget the pain that they’re leaving behind and find somewhere safe where they can all just be themselves. For now she just wants to burrow against Lincoln’s side and hope, because she trusts him with her life. Every day he has her back. They keep each other alive, and if she trusts him with her life she has to trust him with what makes it worth living.

They’ve told each other everything since they met. He and Clarke are the reasons she didn’t throw her life away and become her mother.

“What could be so terrible you can’t tell me, Little Blake?” Lincoln asks softly, his arm squeezing around her tightly.

He smells a bit like home and she can’t stop the tears that are starting to fall.

“Nothing terrible at all,” Octavia shakes her head. “But I promised we’d keep it a secret, and I tell you everything.”

“Promised who?”

“Clarke and Lexa,” she breathes out heavily her voice raw with unshed tears. Octavia pulls back slightly to look up at Lincoln as she scrubs at her face, hating the weakness. She glances around and drops her voice to a whisper, but doesn’t break eye contact. She has to know what he really thinks about them. “The three of us are dating. Lexa isn’t just my roommate, she’s my girlfriend, and Clarke’s too.”

She sucks in a deep breath, trying to stop the trembling as she waits. Lincoln is quiet. He doesn’t look away, but his expression doesn’t change. His brow knits slightly and Octavia stops her exhale. His dark eyes search her face, looking for the truth before he asks his question.

“Does it make you happy?”

Octavia nods, grinning for a moment as she wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve and sniffles. There’s a gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach though, because she broke the promise. She broke Lexa and Clarke’s trust. Even as she feels lighter for Lincoln knowing she feels heavier for the hurt she will cause.

As soon as she gets home, she’ll make it right. She’ll find a way to make it right.

Still, she grins, because the thought of her girlfriends wraps around her soul like a salve, “They’re my everything. My heart. My home… You just have to promise me not to tell anyone.”

Lincoln nods once and Octavia knows he’ll keep the secret. Just like she knows he’s always got her back when they’re at work.

“Who else knows?”

“Abby - we had to tell her when we asked for help with the house. Anya, because she knows everything. Raven figured it out, she’s just been around a lot, at home. It’s harder at home to keep the secret.”

“Not Bellamy?”

“No,” Octavia’s voice wavers. 

“I remember,” Lincoln squeezes her arm, and she’s thankful they don’t have to talk about what happened, and how she’s afraid of what his reaction will be when he does find out. “Is it going to cause problems that I know?”

Octavia deflates. “I broke my word, Lincoln… I had to though. It’s  _ you _ . You trust me with your life, it isn’t fair if I can’t trust you with the most precious part of mine.”

“You’re secret is safe, okay?” He pulls her in close, pressing his next words into her hair. “Let’s get you home to your girls.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Throwing her phone on silent and do not disturb still meant the notifications were there when she went to check Instagram or Twitter, so Raven had turned it off completely two hours ago. It’s been a week and she’s almost ready to give up entirely.

Still, every few minutes she would reach for her phone, flip it over, press the power button, and stare at the black screen. “ _ Cuzão,” _ she mutters.

Raven tosses her phone to the far end of the couch as hard as she can. It bounces twice and clatters to the floor. She should just go for a run, get her mind off things, maybe clear her head enough that she can focus on her current project, a new mechanism for biomechanic limbs. With a sigh and a grunt she makes her way to standing, her prosthetic is in the other room and she hops over to her crutches.

She catches her reflection as she passes by the front window and realizes it’s dark outside. This wouldn’t be the first time she went for a run in the dark, alone, but lately she hadn’t been feeling safe. Maybe it was Wick’s texts, or how empty campus is during the summer, especially at night. Raven picks up her foot and balances on the crutches, swinging between the two poles and weighing her options. She bends at the elbows doing some sort of modified dip while trying to keep from needing to put her foot back on the ground. If she wanted she could always just stay in and work on strength training and physical therapy.

Moving to the corner of the living room with her weights she stands gently on her medicine ball thinking about what she wants to do, still distracted, wishing it were just a little bit lighter so she could make an excuse for a run. Maybe Octavia would want to go. But it’d probably be at least half an hour before they started their run… Raven glances at the clock in the kitchen, and it’s definitely too late for a work night.

A sharp knock on the front door pulls her from her thoughts.

“ _ Quem tá aí? _ ” Raven half says to herself, half calls out. She runs through half a dozen possibilities as she crutches over to the door.

None of them prepare her for the person standing there when she opens the door.

None of her thoughts take into account the reason she is restless, the reason she keeps three locks locked on her door at all times, the reason there’s a bat sitting within reach, the reason her phone has been off most of the night.

Nothing running through her head prepares her for the pain in her chest as the air rushes out of her lungs and Wick smiles at her, a dozen red roses held out.

“Hey, babe.” His voice is soft and his smile is shy and for a moment Raven almost forgets.

But she doesn’t forget.

The memories press back on her like water in her lungs and she’s choking on them. Drowning in the way he used to treat her, the bruises she would hide and the mental scars no one sees. The fear that runs through her veins when he’s this close.

Close enough to smell his cologne.

She looks down, breaking eye contact, her throat constricting as she breathes in the scent and remembers what it was like to have him pressed against her unable to breathe anything else in. Still, she stands in the doorway, neither shutting the door, nor inviting him in, nor taking the flowers.

He shakes them gently at her, “What, no hello? Where’s that Brazilian hospitality I used to love?”

Raven looks up caught between glaring at him and guilt.

“What are you doing here?” she manages to keep her tone level, but only just. She rocks slightly on her crutches, unable to stay still when all she wants to do is run.

Wick raises up the flowers again, a goofy smile on his face, “I wanted to apologize for being away so long.”

Raven swings on her crutches a little, “Can’t really grab those right now.”

“Right, no leg on. Crutches.” He dips his head and a lock of wavy blonde hair falls across his face. “Long day? Why don’t you let me come in and get these in water for you?” He’s already stepping forward before she can answer, before she can catch the door with her hand and stop him from coming inside.

_ How did he find her new apartment? _

Anyone else and she’d be kicking them out. Anyone else and she’d have already started yelling, her blood boiling. Anyone else and they would have known better. Instead she’s nearly shaking and she can’t find the words to tell him to go. Next to him she’s a weak mess, afraid of angering him, afraid of what will happen if she doesn’t give him what he wants. She loved him once, and throwing him out of her life once was hard enough, because what if he was right about her? What if he’s the only one left who will love her?

Raven follows him slowly towards the kitchen nook on her crutches as he reaches down a vase and fills it with water, moving around her kitchen like he belongs there. Like he knows it. Like he knows her.

Her throat has gone dry and the words stick there, “You should go.”

“I just got here!” He laughs. A small part of her misses that laugh, and the good memories they shared.

Raven lies, “I have work in the morning.”

He smiles at her like he did in the beginning, like she was wonderful and everything, like he might love her forever. There’s a moment of a flash of the anger and possession on his face… the frustration that she hasn’t just welcomed him back with open arms, before he’s smiling again. “Of course, it’s late and you teach during the week.” Wick shrugs like it was a simple oversight and pushes off the kitchen counter.

As he passes by he pauses in front of her, cupping her cheek in one hand as he leans down to kiss her forehead. It’s gentle and sweet and Raven can feel her body yearning to yield into the touch. It’s been so long since anyone held her. No one has since she left him.

His fingers trail down her face and his thumb brushes across her bottom lip and even though every muscle in her body is screaming to move, she’s frozen to the spot, unable to move even the slightest. She feels like she might throw up in the back of her mouth and still she can’t move.

“I’ve missed you.”

Raven nods, unable to form words. Inside her head she is screaming.

His hand is on the door handle before he speaks again, turning slightly, his back rigid. Wick’s voice is lower, deliberate, and she knows the tone means she isn’t allowed to question whatever he asks. “We should get coffee and catch up. It was good seeing you.”

He shuts the door softly behind him.

Raven sinks into one of the chairs at her kitchen table and her crutches clatter to the floor. She’s trembling and her face is wet with tears. It was too easy for him to walk back in, too easy for him to take control again, rip away all her power and leave her vulnerable again like she was when they were still together.

She can still feel his hand on her face, his lips pressed to her forehead, and she recoils at the thought, even as she’s thankful that’s all it was. She rubs frantically at her forehead trying to erase the feeling of his touch from her skin. Raven knows she’s stronger than this. Stronger than him. And yet, she froze. She hates herself for wanting to give in to his touch, but she’s been alone too long.

For a moment she feels like she’ll have no one to blame but herself if he just waltzes back into her life.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia hovers just inside the door after answering the echoing hellos from Lexa and Clarke reclined on the couch. She can’t bring herself to move. All the strength she’d mustered on the ride home seeps out of her as she watches them, quiet, and happy, somehow able to live with the agreement they came to.

In her hands are dozens of roses, red, and peach, and salmon colored. Nearly an absurd amount but once she got to the flower shop she couldn’t show up with just one rose for each of them. This called for more than just a singular show of devotion.

Octavia clears her throat and steps towards the living room and into their line of sight.

Clarke grins and Lexa looks at her in surprise.

“What are these for?” Lexa asks as she slips off the couch and scoops up one of the oversized bouquets from Octavia’s arms and presses her nose into the flowers, hiding her face. Breathing out she leans over to kiss Octavia’s temple. “Thank you,” she says softly.

“Yeah, what’d you do?” Clarke’s voice is light and teasing as she goes in for a kiss, but Octavia ducks her head, avoiding the kiss. Clarke’s lips brush against her cheekbone. 

Words die Octavia’s her throat, tight with fear.

Clarke takes the second bouquet and hands it to Lexa who lays the flowers down on the coffee table. “Hey, what is it?”

Octavia’s heart pounds in her chest and she knows she has to face this, apologize, deal with what she’s done… what she had to do, she reminds herself. “Lincoln and I had a rough day at work. We got a beer after and I- I told him we were all together.” It’s better to just rip off the band-aid than draw out the inevitable pain.

“Why?” Lexa takes a step forward but doesn’t reach out for Octavia. Clarke takes a step back. They’re all equidistance from each other now and Octavia doesn’t know how this is going to go down. 

“I’m sorry, but I  _ had  _ to.” She just needs to be able to explain.

“Did you even think about what we all agreed to?” Lexa’s voice is harsh and low. And Octavia knows she’s scared but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. As she continues her voice goes cold, her shoulders square. Octavia’s seen Lexa do this a hundred times in court. “We  _ all  _ agreed! No one else - you didn’t even talk to us about telling him. About what this could cost us!”

“I know. I should have. And I was going to, but I was caught up between feeling like I was betraying him and like I was betraying us.”

“So you chose him?” There’s a tremor in Lexa’s voice that she tries to hide.

“Lexa, he’s been our friend for years.” Clarke starts, but Lexa shoots her a look that could freeze boiling water, and she falls silent. She glances to Octavia but Octavia won’t meet her gaze.

“I didn’t chose him or you and Clarke. I chose  _ me _ ,” Octavia crosses her arms and straightens, starting to feel like she’ll go down fighting when all she wanted to do was make things right. “We need to re-evaluate our decision to keep this relationship a complete secret. I can’t live like that.”

“This is what we all agreed to, Octavia,” Lexa’s implores. “I hate it, too, but our relationship could end my career!”

“It is, but our decision isn’t working for me. It’s not like I told everyone, I told my partner - the guy who keeps me alive at work!”

“It’s Lincoln, we’ve known him forever. He… we can trust him, Lexa.” Clarke says softly. She reaches out for Lexa’s hand but Lexa pulls away from her touch. 

“That’s not the point,” Lexa snaps.

“It's entirely the point!” Octavia snaps back. “He isn't going to betray us.”

“O, we know we can trust Lincoln. You should have come to us first though,” Clarke crosses her arms to keep herself for reaching out for anyone.

“Don’t take her side!” Octavia turns to Clarke, a pained look of confusion twisting on her face.

“I’m not taking anyone’s side!” Clarke tries to get their attention. “But maybe we can take a step back and-”

“The point is that you broke your promise to me, to Clarke!” Lexa’s voice gets louder, still barely above normal, but there’s an undercurrent of hurt and fear driving the anger.

“-talk about this rationally because I think we all want the same things.”

“And I'm trying to apologize for that,” Octavia growls, ignoring Clarke. “I know I should have talked to you both first but-”

“Yes, you should have,” Lexa crosses her arms, clenches her jaw, taps her foot. There’s a finality in her voice that steels something deep inside Octavia.

“It was tearing me apart, him not knowing! I couldn’t stand it. I felt like I was lying to him, betraying him-”

“Octavia,” Clarke takes half a step forward, her voice quiet. “This affects all of us, we have to-”

“I know!” Octavia yells. She’s shaking and furious and scared. This is her fault. It’s always her fault when things break. She looks down, away from Lexa, away from Clarke, one arm crossed over her chest, her other hand taps against her temple as she wills herself to think, to find the words to make this right. She doesn’t trust anyone in the world more than she trusts Clarke and Lexa. 

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to keep what we have quiet when all I want to do is just love you the best I can and I can’t be quiet. I’m not small with that. I’m three dozen roses before you even know I have something to apologize for.” She gestures to the flowers forgotten on the table. “I’m proud of you and I want everyone to know it. I don’t want to have to temper what I say.  _ But I’m trying _ . I’m trying so hard to learn how to love you quietly to keep our secret so that everything works out, because I can’t keep messing up and almost losing you. Either of you. I just want someone I can tell how wonderful having both of you is. I want someone to turn to when I need to talk to someone about us.” Octavia forces herself to inhale and sucks in another breath. 

“I need a confidant, Lexa. You have Anya. Clarke, you’ve got your mom… and it’s been almost a year and I don’t have my own person to talk to about us. One of my best friends didn’t know that I’m so infuriatingly in love. I just wanted to be able to talk to my best friend.” Octavia starts out snapping but her voice falters and she barely whispers the last few words, equal parts angry and scared.

Despair sinks inside her and she wonders if she can make this better at all.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Clarke reaches out for her, voice soft and hands gentle but Octavia tears herself away from Clarke and turns in a small circle, not yet ready to leave, but unable to be touched.

No matter what she does it hurts. Not telling Lincoln was eating at her. Telling Lincoln cost her Lexa’s trust. She wants to scream and yell find something to blame find the reason she’s such a fuck up. Memories surface in the back of her mind and she gasps, unable to breathe through the pain. Her hand grips her shoulder. She won’t be her mother, she won’t be like any of her mother’s douchey boyfriends.

Octavia sinks down onto the couch, head falling to her knees for a moment to breathe. Anger and rage boiling inside her. Anger that she can’t love them the way she needs to, rage at the world for making them this way. Rage at herself for being unable to love in the ways that seems to come so easy to Clarke and Lexa. 

“I don’t know how to love quietly,” she says softly, straightening her back. Octavia looks up at Clarke and Lexa and offers up a sad smile. “I don’t know how you both do it. Why doesn’t it break your heart when we have to pull away in public? How do you keep silent when all I want to do is tell people how happy I am with you?”

Lexa kneels down in front of Octavia, her hands on either side of Octavia’s knees, not quite touching her, but looking up at her quietly, softly, as if the world has narrowed to the three of them. Anything left that matters is at their fingertips. All Octavia can think of is the things that make her heart full to bursting.

Lexa soft and sleepy in the morning, before her coffee, eyes wide and full of wonder.

Clarke hunched over a painting at two a.m. exhausted, paint brush in a death grip, but with an air of perfection about her in her wild mess.

Falling into bed between them at night, so in love and full of belonging.

Clarke sits down next to Lexa, leaning against the couch, looking up at Octavia, but keeping her hands to herself.

“I just wanted Lincoln to know that I’m loved.”

Lexa opens her mouth to reply but Octavia cuts her off, she needs these words outside of her before they burn her up from keeping them inside. 

“Every day I go to work, I trust Lincoln with my life. Everything I hold dear, he protects. And I do the same for him. We keep each other alive because we know what’s at stake. How can I ask him to trust me if I don’t tell him what he’s protecting. What if something happens to me? He has to know…” her voice cracks. “He has to know it isn’t just Clarke. He-” she takes in a shuddering breath. “He has to know I love you, too.”

Lexa breathes out steadily and reaches up to cup Octavia’s face in both her hands. There are tears in her eyes and there’s sadness and pain brimming just beneath the surface. She brushes her thumbs across Octavia’s cheeks and Octavia feels wetness on her skin. It’s only then that she realizes she’s been crying for the last several minutes.

Clarke reaches out, a firm hand on top of Octavia’s knee, a solid presence.  _ We’re in this together. _

Octavia lets go and loses herself in Lexa’s eyes, bright green pools that she hides behind. All the pain and sorrow and life she’s kept buried for so many years, all the joy she’s found in life again. 

“I’m sorry this hurt you,” Lexa whispers, her thumbs continuing to brush at Octavia’s tears.

Octavia nods, letting the weight of her head fall into Lexa’s hands. She reaches out for Clarke, finding her and holding on. There’s a moment where she almost lets herself fall into them, almost lets herself be forgiven. Almost. She breathes out and kisses Lexa’s palm.

“I should have said something before it got to this.”

“Yes, you should have,” Clarke nudges her knee. “We can’t just not talk anymore and hope for the best.”

“I know.”

“This only works if we trust each other, even when we don’t agree.” Lexa tugs Octavia forward off the couch and into her lap. She pulls Clarke close until they’re a tangle of limbs on the livingroom floor. Three bodies, hearts beating together, aching and full of love.

Octavia curls tighter against Clarke, laying her head on her chest. She brushes her hand across Clarke’s shoulder, clearing the blonde hair from her face, and kisses the bare skin left behind. Lexa does the same, tucking Clarke’s hair behind her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Clarke’s face before kissing Octavia’s forehead. They hold onto each other, hands trailing softly, comforting and wondering where they go from here.

Lexa breaks the silence, her voice soft and breathy with emotion, “Together?”

Octavia nods, never more certain. “Together.”

“Together,” Clarke echoes.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke hums to herself, slowly making her way through the day, moving some of the smaller paintings to the front of the gallery to hang and sell. It’s tedious and mindless, but that’s what she needs today. No one to take care of but herself. Tomorrow she’ll have to deal with teaching and caring for young artists but right now, right now she can try to turn off the incessant stream of panic in her mind.

For a while it works.

Then there’s a knock on the front door and Clarke is snapped from her reverie to find her mother looking surprised as she feels. 

“Clarke, I-” Abby pauses, flustered almost. “I was just dropping by to see if you wanted to get lunch.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow quizzically, “I actually can’t today. I’ve got to get these paintings up before Kane gets in.”

“Oh he isn’t in?” Abby clutches her purse tighter. Clarke shakes her head and her mother sighs slightly. “So how are you, how are the girls?”

Clarke walks back toward the front desk and turns walking back toward the front of the shop before she responds. “Fine,” she exhales with a shrug, “Lexa is good and I mean aside from Octavia nearly dying the other day and telling Lincoln about us-”

“What?!”

“She’s fine, I mean, she almost ran into traffic, Raven pulled her out of the way, but she’s fine.” Clarke can’t stop pacing, if she stops moving her mind will acknowledge the connection she’s been trying to avoid, only glancing at sideways and shutting her eyes to. She keeps reminding herself there’s no  _ real _ reason to feel like this as if it might help instead of making her feel worse. It just makes her feel powerless as the swirl of tension wriggles its way into her chest. 

Abby steps in front of her, grabbing both of Clarke’s shoulders and stopping her forward momentum. Clarke closes her eyes and dips her head unable to meet the look of concern on her mother’s face. “What about this is upsetting you? Raven pulled her out of the way, right?”

Clarke’s eyes snap open but she’s seeing the day at the park again, not her mother and the art gallery. Instead she’s watching in slow motion as the car comes around the corner. “The driver was reckless, too fast, and I was watching. Everything… I saw everything and I thought for a second that I was going to lose her just like… like… dad,” Clarke’s voice breaks and she chokes on a sob that’s been building for weeks. Maybe it’s been there for the last ten years, never really left her, just hiding beneath the surface.

Her head falls forward against her mother’s shoulder and she allows herself to collapse into her her arms. She can’t let go of the thought that she nearly lost someone else to a reckless driver. Another wonderful day shattered by tragedy. The weight of it pulls her down, and she’s trembling and crying and she hates that she feels this weak. That there’s nothing she can do to stop this feeling that control has slipped through her fingers.

“It’s been ten years, sweetheart.” Abby presses a kiss into Clarke’s hair. 

The gesture and the words only make her cry harder. She tries to stop, breathing in deep and holding her breath, as if by stopping the flow of oxygen she can stop the flow of tears, but the sob has become something visceral and, like, everything else in her life, escaped her control. Clarke clings to her mother.

She should feel embarrassed breaking down at work, but no one else is here, and the shop isn’t open. This is everything she can’t explain to Octavia and Lexa, even though she’s tried. They haven’t been affected in the way she has by the deaths in her lives and her mother is the only one that comes close.

Though all of them lack real understanding of the loss of stability that comes with the loss of control spurned on by the upsurge of a memory. They can comfort and help her come back to herself but none of them understand how truly frustrating the whole situation is on top of being painfully overwhelming.

Clarke stands up straight, trying to fix her smudged makeup without making it worse, and knowing her eyes are red and watery, and she won’t be fooling anyone. She blinks rapidly to clear out the last of the tears.

“I  _ know  _ it’s been ten years. I shouldn’t still be like this.” Clarke gestures to herself. 

“There’s no statute on grieving, Clarke.” Abby squeezes Clarke’s arm and rubs her thumb across her bicep.

Clarke smiles tight lipped. It isn’t about the pain of loss, though that is there. This is about the moment where her plans and her neatly organized life ended in a splash of crimson on cobblestone. The fact that she can’t control the swirling scream inside her head that holds her up for weeks at a time. She smiles and nods slightly, because that’s what her mother needs.

Abby leans forward, her hand on Clarke’s face as she presses a kiss to her forehead. “You and Octavia and Lexa should go to the coast for the weekend. Maybe the salt water will do you some good.”

Clarke nods again because she can’t find the words, she can’t find her voice. How does she explain the splash of crimson to someone that’s never seen that particular shade of pain?

##  _______________________________________

 

A week passes and Octavia and Clarke and Lexa are trying to find ways to make everything work. Finding ways to compromise this part out - part in the closet life they have. They’re holding on to each other tighter at night, taking more private moments when they’re out in public, risking behavior that could be read as coupleish. Octavia texts the girls talking about what she wishes she could do, or asking if something is okay. 

The house is full of flowers.

Lexa spends her breaks bringing Octavia coffee.

Clarke’s been systematically burning through an entire loaf of bread trying to make breakfast each morning.

Because this is the choice they’re making, hard as it is, they’re in love and for now, this is what it looks like. Half in the closet, half out of it. Complicated and messy. Weekends and evenings feel like the world will be okay, but there’s an encroaching fear. What if someone else figures it out? What if it’s the wrong person? What if one of them loses their job? What if they lose friends?

What if?

What if…

What if.

Octavia presses on the glass door of Gallery 2149 and finds it open, which makes sense since Clarke is expecting her, but doesn’t because technically the gallery is closed. She’s been wondering what if all morning and all she can think is what if it all works out in the end? Does it matter how they get there?

“Clarke?” she calls. The front of the gallery is empty, paintings sit against the walls, ready to be hung, and the makeshift reception area is empty.

She finds Clarke in the small storage area at the back of the gallery sorting through paintings. Octavia watches her for a moment, the way her hair falls messily out of the bun on the top of her head, soft yellow curls trailing down her neck, the way her forehead creases in thought. “Clarke?” she says softly trying not to startle her girlfriend.

Clarke spins, the moment of surprise quickly morphing into happiness as she leans the painting in her hands back against the pile. “Is it lunch already? How are you?”

Octavia wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist as she steps closer to her, “Better now.” She smiles and presses a kiss to Clarke’s cheek.

“You ready to go to lunch?” Clarke nudges Octavia lightly but Octavia tightens her grip.

“I just want to stay here with you in my arms. The world makes more sense when you and me and Lexa can hold on to each other.”

“I know,” Clarke kisses the spot in front of Octavia’s ear. “But we’re meeting Raven for lunch, and we’ll all be home tonight, and you’ll have us all to yourself.” She brushes hair back from Octavia’s face and tucks it behind her ear.

Octavia sighs and releases Clarke from the embrace, her fingertips trail down Clarke’s arm and for a moment their hands link. Stolen moments, smiles, and nights in each others’ arms. She can do this, she reminds herself. As long as she has her girls, she can figure out anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese  
> Cuzão - asshole (but like really really vulgar, much moreso than in english)  
> Quem tá aí? - Who's there?
> 
> _____  
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, in case you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) (which has a new layout and is much easier to read)


	17. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 3 | 11 months ago

Lexa slides into her chair, setting down two greek salads and two toasted sandwiches. Raven follows a few steps behind with four glasses of water. The deli is filling up with the lunch crowd but they’ve managed to snag their normal table in the back corner away from the door and the line.

Clarke and Octavia are running late which isn’t unusual, but Lexa is hoping they show up before too long, it’s never fun when they only get a handful of minutes because someone is late. Lexa smiles at Raven as she settles in. Things are comfortable between them, quiet and simple. She never feels like she has to explain anything with Raven, they just get each other.

This feeling is new, like she has friends and a chance at a life, one that isn’t going to be snached away from her. Last time she felt like life would work out was when she and Costia were starting college. Anya’s career was taking off, Costia was finding herself, and Lexa was learning what real lasting hope felt like. 

Now she has Clarke and Octavia, and a small but growing number of people she trusts… friends, people that care about her, and want to see her happy.

“How goes the lab?” Lexa stabs a bite of salad.

“Decent,” Raven grins. Decent is an understatement, her work is finally starting to get recognition and she might be on the edge of the breakthrough she needs. “I’m skyping with MIT later this week to talk with their biomechanics lab about the designs for my prototype sensor.”

“I want to see this thing in action some day.”

“Definitely, I’m hoping to get some dancers and gymnasts to help me test it out, runners too but I can cover that at least in the preliminary stages. Besides, I couldn’t ask anyone to test out something I wasn’t willing to wear myself. Not with this much on the line.”

The bell on the front door rings as it’s pushed open.

Clarke and Octavia sit down at the table a moment later, Octavia immediately digging into her sandwich, mumbling a thanks to Lexa and Raven for ordering. She’s famished having skipped breakfast after the scent of burnt toast had turned her stomach. There may need to be an intervention in Clarke attempting to cook.

“What is it you’re wearing?” Clarke laughs.

“Nothing special yet,” Raven winks. “We were just talking about the new sensor I’m working on for prosthetic limbs.”

“You’re making yourself into a bionic woman and that is wicked cool,” Octavia says as she steals a fry off Clarke’s plate. Clarke tries to swat her hand away but isn’t quick enough.

“What can I say, I earn my name. I am a true Ravenclaw. The pursuit of knowledge above all else. Can I make it work? Or does it go boom?” Raven leans back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips. “Though, sometimes, those are the same thing. Sometimes that’s the best.”

“A Ravenclaw, huh? I suppose that does fit,” Clarke tilts her head to the side looking Raven over.

“What house are you in?” Raven asks.

“Gryffindor, obviously. It’s practically a given, just like you. It’s all in the name.”

“Touché, Griffin. What about these two?” Raven gestures to Octavia and Lexa. “My guess is Ravenclaw?” she points to Lexa.

Lexa taps her nose, “That’s what these two say anyway.”

“Did you not read the books?” Raven asks incredulously.

“Only once,” Octavia says shaking her head sadly.

“Can you believe it?” Clarke sighs.

“I was busy keeping my grades up, you try having Anya for an older sister and guardian.” Lexa shifts in her seat but her eyes are shining with laughter. “I just wanted to figure out how the world worked. I didn’t have time for figuring out all of the imaginary ones.”

“Spoken like a true Ravenclaw,” Raven grins and raises her fist for Lexa to bump. After a pause, Lexa mirrors the action and Raven explodes the bump. “What about you, O? I’m not sure yet, you’re secondary is too strong. Your brother is Slytherin through and through, but you…”

“O always has been, and always will be a Hufflepuff. Girl is motivated by her heart and food. Which may or may not be linked.” Clarke nudges Octavia who’s been quiet and shovelling her lunch in her face like she isn’t sure she’ll have time to finish, like she hasn’t eaten in awhile.

“‘puff pride,” she mumbles around a mouthful, fistpumping the air.

“Alright, alright. I see it.” Raven sits forward taking a bite of her salad thinking over the house assignments, wondering how long they’ve known each other to know so well where they all belong. “How did you all meet anyway?”

“Well this one,” Octavia pokes to Lexa with her fork. “Cornered me in an interrogation room when the detective on a case before me failed to give a full report.”

“And then I found her sitting on O’s desk looking like a greek goddess,” Clarke winks at Lexa who rolls her eyes.

“She was so aloof, intense, we never stood a chance,” Octavia stretches out her leg and rubs it against Lexa’s. She hopes it’s Lexa’s, or at least Clarke’s. When Raven doesn’t seem to notice she assumes she’s at least reached out for one of her girlfriends.

Lexa shakes her head, tearing at the bread roll in her hand, “You make it sounds like I pursued the two of you.”

“Well, you were the one with a reputation for getting pretty women in closets.” Octavia smirks.

“And we are nothing, if not pretty,” Clarke pops a fry into her mouth.

“Wait, so you and Clarke had been dating when you met Lexa?” Raven sets down the bite of salad she’s about to take. 

“Yeah, about three years,” Clarke raises her eyebrows suggestively as she takes a bite of her sandwich. “Though we’ve known each other since elementary school… Octavia’s got a mean right hook.”

“Clarke’s mom makes really good brownies,” Octavia adds with a shrug. She glances down at her plate, wanting to reach out for either of her girlfriends. Wanting more than stolen glances.

Raven covers up a grin with a sip of water. “That’s almost too precious.”

Clarke shakes her head, “I suppose that’s all you need when you’re ten years old. Little miss I-will-save-the-day punched some kid who was making fun of my art. Somehow we both got detention. I snuck her half a brownie when the teacher wasn’t looking.”

“And they haven’t separated since,” Lexa teases deadpan, glancing to Raven. 

Raven makes a faux gagging noise and the table dissolves into laughter. Though Octavia is quieter than normal.

It’s good. Just hanging out with someone, talking about life, laughing. Everything lately was starting to make them feel as if their life would be forever strange and other, hidden away in crevices between moments. Having friends that they could trust, talk to, be normal around, it makes what they have feel possible. There’s only so far that love and hope can take them. Even together they can’t survive as an island. 

Home is more to them than the arms that hold them close at night.

Raven can’t stop smiling, watching her friends exchange glances, the way they look at each other is nauseating, but she can’t help but feel happy for them. This is the life that makes them happy. Most of the time. She looks to Octavia, focused on her food, clearly trying to keep the smile on her face, hiding something behind a curtain of dark hair.

It’s the way Raven used to be quiet when someone would mention Finn, and now when Wick comes up in conversation. She wonders what happened to cause Octavia to curl in on herself and hide. It isn’t her place to ask.

“So that means you’ve known Bellamy for ages then?” Raven turns to Clarke.

The table goes still and quiet.

Clarke contemplates her sandwich as she answers, “Yeah, he’s been like a big brother… good intentions, a bit over protective at times though.” She glances at Octavia out of the corner of her eye as the younger Blake sinks into herself just slightly. Things may be working out between the three of them but they still have a long way to go before everything feels right as far as home is concerned.

Octavia’s a Hufflepuff, through and through, her home and her family are what matters most to her.

##  _______________________________________

 

The late August sun beats down on Octavia and Raven as they lean and against Lexa’s car, which was borrowed to drive out of town and towards The Gorge for a trail run. After the near accident they had stuck to running in parks or indoors entirely. Even early mornings on the residential streets near the house where the girls lived seemed too crowded with cars – at least for now. Eventually they’d shift back into a running routine that didn’t involve so much driving, but for now it was as good an excuse as any to get out and go for a trail run.

Raven bends over and combs her fingers through her hair, slowly stretching out her hamstrings as she pulls her hair tight to the top of her head, and affixes a hair tie before straightening back up. She shakes her head a few times to make sure it stays in place. The ponytail bounces, but holds tight. Nothing worse than having to stop your run to adjust hair, clothes, or headphones. She slides a thick headband over the top and winds her headphone cord through it, letting the ear buds dangle down her back for now.

She stretches out her arms, loosening up her shoulders. Her pre-run rituals are sacred. Everything in its place and she can tackle whatever the run and her body throw at her that day. Raven hasn’t deterred from the routine since she started running successfully after the amputation. It took a couple years of hard work, harder than she had ever worked before, but she’d gotten there, determined not to let something out of her control make decisions for her about how she would live her life.

The hardest part was that before the lab accident that shattered her tibia was that she hadn’t been a runner. She’d been in decent shape, but all of that had taken second place to her research and her education. One safety oversight on some freshman’s part and her life was being dictated to her by doctors and specialists. Old white men telling her it was unlikely she would walk without assistance. 

Raven straightens up and clicks her headphones into her phone. Music and friends and the endorphin high were the only thing that mattered for the next couple hours.

A car door slams and Raven startles, a small scared noise escaping her throat. She grabs onto the edge of the car door, head whipping around toward the source of the noise. It’s just a family of hikers tumbling out of their car, kids laughing, carefree, getting ready for a day sightseeing at the falls. Raven shakes her head and slides into the seat to switch out her regular leg for her running blade.

“You alright there?” Octavia peaks around the side of the car.

“Yeah, totally.” Raven smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She clenches her hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

Octavia makes an incoherent noise and turns back to changing into her running shoes. Her arm still aches from the near accident and she shakes it out. She’s just glad the scab is nearly gone, even if the new skin underneath is pale and pink and scarred. Laces tight, she jumps to her feet, bouncing back and forth a few times before doing a few knee highs and stretching out her back. The only problem with trail runs were the drives to and from the trail. 

All she wants to do is be moving. Let the world fall away as she loses herself in the pounding of her feet on the earth. Just her and Raven and the fresh air. It took her a while to get used to running with someone else. She and Raven keep different paces, have different goals, and so it took them a while to find a rhythm - the gym at home is a different story, there they’ve always been in sync… There’s something about the way they play off each other that just makes it all work.

Octavia looks over to Raven as she fits her leg back on with the running blade attached. It’s like something out of the future, sleek and crafted to be super-human, and Octavia can’t help but be in awe of her friend. She couldn’t imagine trying to run with only one leg, knowing that Raven works nearly twice as hard as Octavia does just to do the same workout. And still, most days, Raven outruns Octavia, pushing them both harder and faster than they would go alone. Octavia is nothing if not thankful, though she can’t say the same for her legs the day after their runs.

“What?” Raven tosses her towel at Octavia, hitting her square in the face before she snatches it and comes out of her reverie. 

Octavia grins and tosses the towel back, “Just admiring your badassery, Reyes.”

Raven raises an eyebrow, and stands. There’s swagger in the way she moves. “Is that so, Little Blake? You think I’m going to go easy on you if you soften me up with compliments first?”

“As if you’re the one that needs to be going easy on me,” Octavia shoots back. 

“You think you can beat me, then?” Raven’s smirk is cocky as she steps into Octavia’s space, chest to chest, nearly pressed against each other. She reaches down to finish tightening the strap on her prosthetic and when she straightens she leans forward just enough to make Octavia take a small step back and smack into the side of the car. 

“Oh, it’s on.” Octavia nudges Raven and slips past her jogging backwards toward the trailhead. 

Raven shuts the car door and takes off after Octavia, “We’ll see if you’re still grinning when we get back.”

The first mile is more of a sprint, Octavia and Raven running neck and neck down the trail, laughter echoing behind them as they dodge over tree roots and around corners, avoiding the hikers pulling their children and dogs out of the girls’ way. By the time they slow down they can’t tell if the day is heating up or they’re just hot from running, but both girls are dripping in sweat.

Octavia peels off her tanktop as they run, twisting it into a rope and tying it around her head.

“Classy, O,” Raven laughs as she picks up the pace. Octavia stumbles and presses into the ground harder to catch up.

For most of their run it’s just them and the water rushing through the gorge below the trail. A light mist dampening their skin as much as their sweat. The steady beat of their feet as they find themselves alone is the driving pulse that propels them forward. Today it’s five miles out and five miles back. A nice long run for their day off.

Lungs burn, muscles warm and sore as they push past exhaustion. The self challenge, how far can I go, can I still go on once we get to that tree? What about that rock? Still running, legs pumping, arms swinging, obliques on fire. There’s never quite enough air but each breath is an aching reminder of how alive they are in that moment.

They round a corner. A dog barks. Raven trips.

Octavia catches her before she hits the ground, pulling her upright, steadying her. She doesn’t let go right away, and notices a fine trembling in Raven’s core. Both of them are breathing heavily. Catching their breath from exhaustion and startled nerves.

“You okay?” Octavia asks around gasps.

Raven nods rapidly and steps out of Octavia’s grasp, her hands on her waist as she tries to steady her breathing.

Octavia bends over to catch her breath, hands on knees. She holds up one finger, signalling wait. “What’s going on? You’ve been jumpy this entire run.” As her breath evens out she straightens up.

“It’s nothing,” Raven shakes her head, jogging in place. “Come on we’ve only got another mile and we’re back to the car.”

The last thing Raven wants to do is think about Wick, or that he still keeps showing up, texting her, knocking on her door late at night. That she’s jumpy because she’s starting to suspect he’s been following her. She wouldn’t put it past him to, but out here, more than a mile from the parking lot, it seems absurd to think that he would be trying to keep up with them. Besides it was a dog barking, not her six foot one ex.

Raven takes off running again, not waiting to see if Octavia accepts what she says or not.

They finish up their run in silence, Raven keeps her head down, not acknowledging the other runners, and letting Octavia take care of the wave and nod that everyone around here insists on. The runner’s solidarity. Usually she’s all for it, they’re all out here, living, making themselves better, enjoying life… she can’t shake the feeling in her gut though that something is wrong now that they’re nearly at the trailhead - the parking lot just coming into view.

Raven glances up, just catching sight of a tall male with long blonde hair slipping into a car. It looks like him. It was probably him. She shakes her head trying to quell the panic in her chest, her eyes close for a moment and she doesn’t see the uneven ground, and trips over the small mound of dirt. 

Octavia’s hands close around her arm and waist, keeping her from crashing to the asphalt beyond. She pulls her upright and tight against her.

“Twice in one run, you’re not okay.”

Raven shrugs out of Octavia’s grasp, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“The guy in the car, who was that?” Octavia frowns and purses her lips but lets Raven go.

Raven doesn’t reply. The car hasn’t returned and she’s just hoping it was a coincidence, another tall long haired blonde boy. She leans against Lexa’s car stretching, waiting for Octavia to open the door so she can switch out her running blade for her regular leg. 

Her head is racing and it has nothing to do with the run. She isn’t ready to talk to Octavia or anyone really. Wick is something she can handle. The last thing she’s going to do is let things become like they were before. Raven refuses to be that weak again.

Octavia isn’t letting it go. “Was that your ex who keeps texting?” She leans against the car, just inside Raven’s field of view. Sweat plasters the little baby hairs to the side of her face and it drips down her neck in the late morning heat. Raven watches a bead of sweat join with another, suddenly gaining speed and running across Octavia’s collarbone, down toward the edge of her sports bra.

Raven looks back up and shakes her head decisively, holding Octavia’s gaze and imploring her to understand. “It’s fine, O, really.”

Neither of them blink or flinch, staring the other down and willing them to give in. Stubborn and strong willed they could be at this a while. Raven can feel a trickle of sweat start up again down her spine thanks to the rising sun. She squirts water into her mouth without breaking eye contact disappointed that the water has warmed over the course of their run. It isn’t that she doesn’t trust Octavia, it’s just that this is something she can handle.

The shift of the car unlocking breaks the weight between them and Octavia turns to move to the drivers side. The purse of her lips is sad tinged with disappointment and Raven doesn’t fail to notice the way it seems she let things go anyway.

“You know, you don’t have to go through things alone.” Octavia opens the car door and looks at Raven over the roof, she tilts her head to the side and Raven knows that look. It’s the one Octavia uses when she’s sizing up a challenge. “I know you’ve had this whole lone wolf, epically busy scientist thing going on… but whether you meant for this to happen or not you’ve got friends now, and we’ve got your back if you let us. I’m a cop, don’t think I don’t recognize the signs of what is happening, but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” She drops into the car and shuts the door. 

Raven lets out a long breath. Octavia won’t push her, but she knows. Guilt and disappointment in herself churns her stomach. She isn’t the weak girl Wick left her a year ago. She doesn’t want the pity that comes from being a victim. Being a victim is the last thing she’s going to be this time.

##  _______________________________________

 

Magnets keep the bonsai trees floating inches above their bases. Little planet shaped worlds, a tiny world made for one large organism. Were someone small enough the could walk slowly around the planet and it would always be sunset. Lexa holds her favorite of the plants gently in her hands, trimming it into shape, taming the wildness, helping it grow. 

She’s had this one the longest, and somehow it is more special to her than all the others. It’s the one Anya entrusted to her first, shortly after their foster parents had been killed in a skiing accident. She sets down the small pruners and turns the little tree this way and that, admiring it, loving it. This is something she cares for because she cultivated it, gave herself to it.

Lexa closes her eyes as she sets the little planet back above its base, letting it go in mid air, trusting it will once again float. With a flick of her finger she sets it gently spinning, near perpetual motion. The only thing that will ever stop its spiral is an outside force.

Spiraling steady, slowly.

Clarke.

Lexa lays back on the livingroom floor, pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes. Something has been off kilter in the carefully constructed world that she’s built. Ever since that car nearly ran over Octavia. Clarke is shaky and sad when she thinks no one is looking. Octavia is fighting between herself and her promises. For months it wasn’t a problem… and now, all of sudden, it feels like their life is spiraling. What’s the outside force that will stop them? Will they just naturally slow and stop this madness or do they need to exert an opposite first, a change to save themselves.

She picks up her phone sending a quick text to Octavia.

_ Lexa 12:24pm:  _ Should we be worried about Clarke? Or is it just me that thinks she’s been more than sad lately?

Ten minutes pass, and Lexa lets herself stay laying on the floor, sunlight warming her through the large windows that look out over their backyard. Part of her is tempted to stay there on the floor but she dislikes biding her time if there is something to be done. Hoisting herself to her feet she’s barely sat down at the piano - just another distraction if she’s honest with herself - when her phone goes off.

_ Octavia 12:37pm:  _ It’s nearly September. this time of year is always hard… plus it’s been 10 years since Jake died

_ Octavia 12:37pm:  _ I wouldn’t worry yet

_ Octavia 12:37pm: _ besides she’s got both of us, we can handle it

_ Lexa 12:38pm:  _ Last year she seemed okay. What exactly will we have to handle?

_ Octavia 12:38pm: _ nothing crazy, she just crashes for a few days. we make sure she eats, drinks water. that kind of thing, just have to wait it out. driving now, on our way back from the gorge

_ Lexa 12:38pm: _ Ok. But we’re talking about this later.

_ Octavia 12:39pm:  _ sure

Lexa sighs and sets her phone next to herself on the piano bench and drops her hands onto the keys. She isn’t really paying attention to what she’s playing just letting her mind wander while her hands do their thing. 

Part of her just wants to believe Octavia that everything will resolve before too long, but this feels like so much more than a seasonal affection. Everything is connected, and it isn’t just Clarke that is hurting. They have to find a way to get over what has happened in the past.

Maybe the biggest change they could make is to work toward not hiding their relationship. Lexa can’t do that unless she has a new job, one that doesn’t rely on the whims of government bureaucrats. One where maybe her boss won’t mind her life existing outside normal. One that can look past the queerness of who she is. Lexa’s hands still on the keys. Maybe she has the power to change the course of things and stop this spiral.

She doesn’t hear Clarke come up behind her until Clarke is wrapping arms around her shoulders and kissing the top of her head. Clarke’s voice is sleepy and rough, “That was pretty, why did you stop?”

Lexa tips her head back and steals a kiss. “Just thinking.”

“‘Bout what?” Clarke nuzzles against Lexa and there’s a sad quality to her voice even as she tries to keep her tone light.

“Just work stuff,” she leans back into her girlfriend. The thought has taken hold, it’s time to try to advance her career. No more working for the District Attorney. If she wants to get where she wants to be both at work and at home something has to give. This time it’s easy - new job, new chances to make things right. 

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke can feel it wash over her like a wave, soft and gentle and she almosts laughs at it’s familiarity. The sadness. The weight. She almost laughs because why would she think that she would be anything but this. It always comes back to this. No matter how long she holds steady it always comes back like the tide.

It’s just starting to come in, trickling cold down her spine. Clarke presses the heels of her hands to her eyes and shakes her head to clear it. Maybe she can keep it from happening this time. Maybe this time she’ll have caught it soon enough and she can stop it. Stop the tide rolling over her, burying her in the wet sand. Stop the weight of inexplicable sadness wrapping around her heart.

On her fingers she counts the good in her life. Her girlfriends. Octavia and Lexa have seen her through everything in this past year, and this past year has been so very good. Her friends, both her jobs, her students. The release of stress now that she doesn’t manage the museum, relegated to a teacher of tiny ones. It’s the dream.

Clarke glances up at the little art classroom, messy and covered in paint, floor and easels alike. Chairs stained from oil paints. She can almost hear the laughter of little artists as they discover how to mix colors, how drying paint crinkles on the skin, how they can create whatever they see in their mind on the canvas.

She slumps into her teacher chair in the corner of the room and pulls her knees to her chest, heels pressed to the edge of the seat, forehead against her knees.

_ Fight _ . She urges herself. As if she could stop water running through her fingers.  _ Just hold on _ . This time it will be okay. Life is good.  _ Wonderful.  _ She argues with herself. This will be the time everything is okay. This will be the time she doesn’t fall apart.

One day at a time.

Clarke breathes out and presses her feet flat on the floor.

One day at a time. Each smile, each moment she can choose how she acts. If she just pretends hard enough maybe it will be real, and this time she won’t let her depression eat away at her life. She doesn’t want to lose this time.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa fidgets on the couch trying to move as little as possible because Clarke’s legs are across her lap and she’s sketching, and Octavia is leaning against her other side from time to time when her video game switches to a cut scene. Lexa can’t move far without disturbing either of them. So she shifts slightly and repositions her laptop on Clarke’s shins. She’s been staring at the lone email in her inbox, ignoring the list of things she needs to be doing, and instead she keeps reading and rereading the proof that the phone call she received earlier that day really happened.

Earlier that day Trikru Associates had called her about an interview. She hadn’t anticipated such a quick reply to her inquiry, only thinking that this initial inquiry would serve to get her name in front of the right person. Apparently one of her former professors knows several individuals that work there. It’s been somewhere she’s thought of working for years. Their client base is troubled families mostly, a lot of it divorces, but Lexa could work on cases involving children almost exclusively. It’s everything she’s worked toward.

She’s been thinking about this for months, longer really, but for different reasons than she is right now. Now that she’s faced with the reality of her choices and needs, and how they affect the people she loves, she wants to try to do what is best for the three of them, and not just herself.

Octavia leans her head against Lexa’s shoulder and Lexa lets her head fall against the top of Octavia’s.

As much as she’s always wanted to move to working in the private sector, there’s something in the prospect of starting a new job - especially a job that she wants so desperately for so long- that she doesn’t know where to being. How does she bring up the prospect to the others so that they understand? She’s doing this for herself because it’s what she wanted but she’s doing it  _ now  _ because of them.

Lexa rubs her thumb across the bare skin of Clarke’s exposed ankle.

It isn’t until Octavia turns her head and sets her chin on Lexa’s shoulder that she realizes she’s been humming to herself in thought for the past several minutes. This is what she gets for living alone for so much of her adult life, she has some extraordinarily bizarre habits.

“Something is on your mind.” Octavia states.

Lexa closes her laptop and leans forward to put it on the coffee table. “I have an interview for a job with Trikru Associates,” she keeps her voice level.

Clarke taps Lexa with her sketchpad indicating she should take it and put it on the coffee table as well. “Isn’t that the fancy firm in the glass building next to the museum?”

“I didn’t know you were applying for new jobs.”

They both sound surprised.

Lexa picks Clarke’s legs up off her lap and stands, walking halfway around the living room while she gathers her thoughts, trying to figure out the best place to start. She pauses at the piano, thinking she might sit down to play, clear her head put things in order. The words need to come out in the right order.

“Lexa?”

She turns to see both Clarke and Octavia turned to watch her, and she knows she needs to start talking.

“I never meant to stay working with the D.A. for so long. And lately I’ve been thinking, since before Octavia told Lincoln about us, really, but that night it became clear, we’re mostly staying in the closet because I’m asking us to. Because I don’t feel my job is secure if we come out.” Lexa glances up realizing she’s saying things they all already know. “If I worked in the private sector the situation would be different. We could come out... if we chose to.”

Lexa stops pacing, letting her hands drop to her sides and turns to face her girlfriends again.

Clarke leans her head on the back of the couch, but she’s smiling as she watches Lexa. “As long as you’re doing what you want with your career.”

“Yes, this was the plan. Trikru Associates has been on my list for a long time.” Lexa crosses back to the couch, pausing at the back of it.

Octavia sits up on her knees so she’s nearly eye level with Lexa, her words are quiet, shy, almost in awe, “You’re doing this for us?”

Lexa dips her chin once in affirmative and Octavia breaks out in a smile so big it takes up her whole face. She tugs Lexa close and presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek in excitement before flopping back on the couch where she settles in between Clarke’s legs, still looking up at Lexa. She hasn’t looked this happy in a while now.

Octavia closes her eyes, drawing in the moment, holding onto it, savouring it. Part of her feels free, like there’s finally light. There’s a way out of this torment that doesn’t leave her feeling twisted inside. She hears Lexa walk back around the couch and reaches out a hand as she cracks one eye open.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

Lexa takes her hand and sits gently on the edge of the couch as she reaches for Clarke.

“I need to do this, because I don’t want to be the reason we can’t be completely happy.”

##  _______________________________________

 

When Lexa steps into the front lobby of Gallery 2149 it takes Clarke longer than she’d like to admit for her to realize that anyone else is in the room with her. She’s too entrenched in sorting through the legal speak of a contract for a catering company to hear the tell tale click of heels on concrete, and doesn’t look up until Lexa is practically in front of her.

She’s been caught up in trying to calm her mind, getting lost in the guilt of not being able to focus, or make headway on her endless list of tasks. She felt it start weeks ago, the first gentle tugs of depression, not quite apathy yet, but the fear and hyper awareness, the worry that everyone would judge her failure. Worry that if she didn’t manage to make it through the winter without feeling despair she would be letting everyone down. Last winter had been mild.

Last winter everything had been new, Lexa, the house – there was so much to keep her from ruminating on the feelings building inside her last year, and the sense that they were unstoppable, uncontrollable, that no matter what she did she would be faced with the same pain and despair for no reason at all.

Standing in front of Clarke with a slightly bemused, slightly sad smile on her lips as she holds out an iced latte. Lexa shakes it gently back and forth signalling Clarke to take the drink.

“I had a feeling you might need this today,” she shrugs as if she’s trying to coax a smile out of Clarke.

Clarke takes the proffered coffee and wonders if it’s clear to Lexa that she is lost. Lost in thought lost in the consuming feeling of well, feeling everything. The gratitude she feels for her girlfriends, the small ways Lexa makes sure Clarke knows she cares, stopping by and bringing her iced coffee, catching her eye across the dinner table, pulling her closer as they sleep at night. And Octavia too, the way she’s been blowing up their group chat for days with all the impulse she has, her hopes and dreams that one day she won’t have to put down in words every move she wants to make.

Clarke wonders if she’s seemed lost in the pain of remembering because lately all she wants to do is wander down to the market with her dad and tell him the state of her heart while they pick up organic strawberries and kale, or whisper about her problems while she tries not to inhale the stink of raw fish. She just wants to pour out her soul like what she’s saying is trivial but have him know it’s the grandest of admissions. He had a way of knowing what was really important to her. She wants to hear his laugh as she says something ridiculous. She can remember the way it felt and how it made her feel. She can remember the shape of it, the why of it, but she can’t remember the sound of it, can’t hear it fill her ears or wrap around her. It was just so many vibrations in the air.

She can’t remember the sound of her dad’s laugh or the way her name sat on his tongue when he was proud.

“Thank you,” Clarke says softly, eyes searching Lexa’s face and trying to suss out what her dad would make of her, all the ways he would have loved her. “I thought you were grabbing lunch with Raven and Anya today?”

“I am,” Lexa smiles softly as she leans on the counter, near enough that Clarke could lean in to touch her. 

Clarke thinks about it, but she’s afraid she’ll sink into any comfort offered and she has to make it through the day. Lexa fidgets with a pen almost as if she isn’t sure what to say. 

“I just wanted to see you. See how you were surviving Octavia’s texts.” The last is said with a small laugh.

Clarke smiles at that and she can feel the warmth of it spread through her. Octavia’s text had been increasingly graphic in their group chat over the morning, not that either of them had done anything to discourage her. If anything they had taken turns egging her on. It was a wonder no one had suggested they all take a sick day to remedy the growing ache they all shared for which there really was only one cure.

Orgasms, and lots of them.

“Mostly, well… mostly. Though work isn’t nearly distracting enough. I swear that girl will be the death of us one day if she doesn’t frustrate herself into oblivion first. There won’t be any getting things done tonight.”

Lexa sighs heavily but there’s a smile on her lips.” Should we just plan to order in for dinner then? Maybe Indian?”

Clarke shifts and leans across the desk, her hands brushing Lexa’s. “So you’ve got plans for us then?”

Lexa leans forward, close enough she can feel Clarke’s breath on her lips. “I feel like Octavia already made our plans for us.” She hooks her pinky finger around Clarke’s, stroking the cool, dry skin. 

When Clarke closes the distance between them and catches her up in a kiss Lexa yields, lips caressing lips, mind racing towards six o’clock tonight and walking in the front door of their house. She doesn’t miss the sadness of Clarke’s sigh when she pulls back, knowing it has nothing to do with having to wait, and everything to do with Clarke doing her best to hide how she’s feeling.

Lexa kisses the tip of Clarke’s nose and straightens up. “Text me if you need anything, I’ll be back later to pick you up.”

Clarke dips her head and doesn’t meet Lexa’s eyes. It’s evasive and more than anything it makes Lexa worry. After all they’ve been through together she doesn’t want Clarke or Octavia to feel like they have anything to hide from her. That’s not what they’re in this for. They’re supposed to be each other’s strength, their safe space. She can’t fix this in the next five minutes though so she lets it go, hoping that the feeling that Clarke will come to them when she is ready is more than just a hope.

They whisper their goodbyes, Clarke already focused on her work as Lexa slips out the front door of the gallery.

It doesn’t take her long to walk the few blocks to the sandwich shop and bakery near her office. She checks her watch, five minutes late, which means Anya will be inside waiting and impatient. Just as she suspected her sister is saving their table in the corner. Raven must be running late too.

“I was beginning to think everyone forgot we had plans.” Anya rolls her eyes as she nudges a chair out with her foot for Lexa to sit in.

“I stopped by to check on Clarke. Did you order?”

“Yeah, already put in yours and Raven’s too.” 

“Thanks.” Lexa nearly slumps into the chair but catches herself at the last minute. She shakes her head, Octavia must be rubbing off on her.

Anya sips at her ice coffee through a straw. “Everything okay with Clarke?”

“She’s  _ off _ ,” Lexa slides her chair forward and leans her elbows on the table, fiddling with the little crystal glass of sugar packets. “Octavia says this is nothing out of the ordinary yet. You know, it’s almost the anniversary.”

“Her dad?”

“Yeah.”

“Parents.”

“Seriously.” Lexa shakes her head but she’s glad she and Anya don’t need more words to understand. All parents do is manage to give you things to be fucked up about. It isn’t entirely true but sometimes it feels like it. Maybe they wouldn’t be so cynical if their adopted parents hadn’t died.

The bell on the front door rings and a few moments later Raven slips into the empty chair next to Anya, setting her phone on the table as she does.

“Why the long faces? Did you miss me that much?” Raven laughs but there’s a hollow sound to it. She cringes as her phone buzzes several times in succession. With a quick flick of her fingers she turns her phone onto do not disturb. It’s only when she looks up that she notices identical looks of thinly veiled worry and disbelief on Anya and Lexa’s faces. “What?”

Lexa shakes her head, hiding her face behind her hand, but Raven can still make out a slight smile filled with wonder. Anya rolls her eyes.

“Is that still him?” Anya stares at Raven’s phone pointedly.

“Nope, just work.” Raven dismisses the question quickly. Just because it is Wick and Anya is right and Lexa probably knows doesn’t mean she wants to talk about it. She just wants a pleasant lunch with her friends as far away from all the men in her life as she can get. Right now Monty and Jasper are having a contest to build the most ridiculous robot and she doesn’t want to be on call for when something goes disastrously wrong. 

The boy behind the deli counter calls out a number and Anya pushes back her chair to stand.

Raven opens her mouth to ask if Anya had ordered for her but Anya cuts her off with a smirk. “Greek salad, no olives, light cheese.”

“You know me so well.” Raven grins and for a moment she feels lighter, but it only lasts a moment.

Lexa catches Raven’s eye and she arches an eyebrow. There’s everything in that one simple look. Admission that Lexa doesn’t know exactly what’s going on but she’s worried. Her gaze is soft, and doesn’t demand answers. It’s an offer of their friendship. In that one look Raven knows all she needs to know - Lexa understands that something is wrong, and that if anything is within her power she’ll do it. But also, if Raven doesn’t ask, she’ll leave it alone. There’s a trust there that she doesn’t know if either of them have earned.

Raven breathes out and nods, tilting her head to watch Lexa and wondering how they manage to communicate volumes without words. She wonders when soft green eyes became as familiar as her own.

##  _______________________________________

 

The room is bright for the middle of the night, the full moon shining in through the open window, they’re far enough away from downtown that the city lights don’t quite light up the night the way they did in Octavia and Clarke’s apartment. The air blowing through the open window is cool, almost cold compared to the heat of day, but night makes it clear that fall is fast approaching. 

Lexa curls up tighter in bed, pulling covers and blankets over her shoulders. She reaches one arm back, reaching for… someone, anyone and finds nothing but cold empty sheets. Cracking one eye open she’s squints at the clock on the wall, trying to make out the analog interface in the dark.

It’s past three in the morning.

Lexa turns over and sees Octavia sprawled on the far side of the bed, her back to Lexa. Clarke is nowhere in sight. She must still be in her studio.

Picking up the blankets, Lexa shivers as the cold air rushes in and she scoots across the bed to press up against Octavia. She’s tempted to go back to sleep but she’s worried that Clarke hasn’t come to bed and it’s so late. Not that this is abnormal, but lately…

Lexa runs her fingertips down Octavia’s arm, brushes her hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear, gently tries to call her girlfriend back from the deep sleep that she’s in. Part of her feels guilty waking Octavia, but she isn’t sure if she should intervene. Last year Clarke weathered the storm of the anniversary of her father’s death just fine. This year, after they’ve all been happy and stable for so many months, it feels like a punch to the gut to not know what to do to help, to not know how to make anything better. Lexa nuzzles against the back of Octavia’s neck and presses a kiss to her spine wondering if she can wake her girlfriend up if she just thinks hard enough about it.

She drums her fingers on Octavia’s shoulder lightly.

Octavia makes a small whining noise in the back of her throat. Lexa nuzzles her nose against Octavia’s neck.

“Octavia,” she whispers.

Octavia whines again, this time deliberately flailing slightly, the sound she makes is almost the word  _ no _ .

“Clarke still hasn’t come to bed,” Lexa keeps her voice low as she dusts Octavia’s neck with kisses, an apology for waking her.

“She’s...studio...painting…” Octavia mumbles snuggling down under the blankets and against Lexa.

“It’s past three and I’m worried.”

Lexa feels Octavia breathe out, let go of her desire to be asleep, to chose to wake up, and to listen in the middle of the night at the hour when nothing should happen. Octavia rolls onto her back and pushes her hair back from her face, and Lexa is left looking down into eyes she knows are light green but she can barely make out the color. 

Octavia’s voice is barely loud enough to hear, even as close as they are, “I have been as well.” She reaches out, twining her fingers with Lexa’s and squeezes her hand as she sits up.

It only takes a few moments to get out of bed and down the hall, not turning on lights, hands still entwined. Lexa presses her palm flat against the door to Clarke’s studio and it swings open. The room beyond is dark, Clarke sat huddled on the floor, an easel before her, but it’s clear that she’s long since stopped painting.

“Clarke?” Lexa asks softly not sure how awake the other woman is. She presses off the door frame and pads across the room, Octavia following behind her.

There’s no response, no movement, not even a twitch or a shrug, just Clarke staring at the canvas on the floor in front of her.

“Clarke…” Octavia murmurs, kneeling down beside her. It’s less of a question more of a sad statement, and Clarke huddles in on herself, the paintbrush she had been holding clattering to the hardwood floor.

There’s a mumbling of sound and Lexa can only barely decipher the words  _ I’m fine _ . 

Clarke is clearly anything but fine. A desperate air surrounds her, paints and tools meticulously lined up on the stained floor. Between the paintbrushes and some other paint tools Lexa can’t name are a line of razor blades. Lexa kneels down next to Clarke, careful not to disturb anything and brushes the hair back from her girlfriend’s face.

Clarke keeps her eyes downcast neither looking to Octavia or Lexa, but focusing instead on the chaos on the canvas in front of her.

Octavia catches Lexa’s eye over the top of Clarke’s head, trying to communicate that this is beyond what normally happens, encroaching on  _ this is bad _ territory. She hasn’t seen Clarke like this in a long time and she feels like this sudden sharp drop in Clarke’s mood is something she should have seen coming. She knows the warning signs. She’s had ten years to memorize them and learn the nuances.

Lexa had asked, days ago, if they should be worried, and Octavia had brushed it off. A wave of guilt comes over her, souring her stomach and clenching around her heart. They did recognize the signs, but she chose to ignore them because sometimes there are just storms that people have to weather and all someone can do is to help them stay afloat once one sets in.

Sometimes storms come out of nowhere. A bright sunny day turning cloudy in an instant, the pressure dropping so suddenly the storm seems inexplicable, unpredictable. All there is to do is to support that person, hold them, help them keep going, pick up what they can no longer carry.

Some storms are worse than others, and a storm never needs a reason to be.

Lexa tilts her head to the side, holding Octavia’s gaze.  _ What do we do? _

Octavia shrugs. They do what they always do when Clarke stays up to late painting. Right now it’s all they can do.

“C’mon, Clarke, it’s late, we should go to bed.” Octavia helps Clarke to standing. She comes slowly, moving on her own when prompted, almost taking the initiative to get herself to bed. There’s a sluggishness to her, as if there’s a layer of fog between her and the world. She’s there, she’s functioning, but she isn’t engaged with anything around her.

Octavia guides Clarke away from her easel and the mess of paints on the floor. This isn’t the first time and each time it happens it scares her. Clarke slips out of herself. She’s there, maybe sad, but she’s  _ there _ , and then in the span of a breath she’s gone, as if Clarke has somehow breathed out herself along with the carbon dioxide filling her lungs, all that’s left is a shell of Octavia’s best friend and one of the loves of her life.

On the occasions she can get Clarke to look at her she’s met with hollow eyes. It’s haunting and terrible and Octavia can only imagine how horrible it is for Clarke. In all the years that Clarke has suffered this she’s never pressed her to explain what it is that happens, both afraid she won’t understand and afraid that she will.

But this time, tonight, this is the worst that she’s seen Clarke since right after her father died.

Then, it made sense, there was a reason, a tangible event to point to.

Now, it’s almost worse because there isn’t a singular reason.

Lexa doesn’t turn the bathroom light on but she turns on the tap, sticking a washcloth underneath the stream, waiting for cold water to warm. Fear trickles down her spine and she keeps her eyes fixed on the task at hand, wetting the towel, making sure it’s neither too cold nor too hot. They’re on new ground, Octavia has never seemed overly worried before, not outwardly so, and Lexa has never seen Clarke so withdrawn, barely attempting to pull herself together.

She glances up, taking in the dimly lit scene. It feels like a dream with the moonlight filtering in through the windows on the far side of the room, giving everything an ethereal quality. The silence that stretches between them all presses down on them, holds them still. Lexa lets it, afraid to move again, worried what will become of them when the spell around them breaks.

Clarke leans into Octavia hands balled into fists around Octavia’s shirt, fingers clenched tight as if her hold on Octavia is her anchor to the world. That if she doesn’t let go she won’t give in to whatever is trying to pull her down.

Octavia wraps her arms around Clarke, holding her close, hands moving in soothing motions along her spine. Her lips press into the wild mess of blonde hair and she catches Lexa’s gaze again.

They aren’t alone in this. None of them are alone and for the first time Octavia feels more than just love and hope when she looks to her girlfriends. She feels comfort and support in knowing that maybe when things get well and truly bad they don’t have to be the singular pillar of strength.

Together they can be stronger.

Together this storm will be easier to ride out.

Octavia nudges Clarke toward the sink, trying to ignore the wetness pressed against her neck, and Clarke’s uneven breath from silent tears shaking her. Lexa coaxes one of Clarke’s hands off Octavia’s shirt, uncurling her fingers one by one.

Slowly Clarke unfurls. She takes the washcloth from Lexa, scrubbing at her hands and arms, washing off the layers of dried paint.

“I got this,” Clarke murmurs, her lips twitching into a facsimile of a small smile as she catches Lexa’s eye. It’s empty, no more than a muscle spasm.

Lexa runs her fingers through Clarke’s hair, her heart aching at the roughness of Clarke’s voice.

Octavia takes up her position behind Clarke again, reaching around her and taking the cloth from her hands. She wipes away paint as she presses words against the back of Clarke’s neck, “We know you do. You just don’t have to do this alone Whatever is going through your head…”

“We’ve got you,” Lexa presses a kiss to Clarke’s forehead and then one to Octavia’s. “Whatever you need.”

Clarke nods, unable to form words beyond the lump in her throat. She lets herself be held up by her girlfriends. For a few moments she just lets them finish cleaning the paint off her, lets them lead her to bed, not thinking beyond the feeling of their touch, the way it wraps around her like a protective cocoon.

Clarke strips off her painting shirt, letting it fall to the floor, leaving herself in nothing but her underwear as she crawls into bed, Octavia at her front and Lexa at her back. They’re pressed skin against skin, nothing at all between them.

She presses close and holds on, trying to focus on the feeling of their hearts beating, slow and steady, falling into sync. Clarke knows that if she lets her mind wander she won’t find any peace tonight, won’t be able to sleep – and that is all she wants, the sweet darkness of unconsciousness....

oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, in case you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome)


	18. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 4| 10 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was late today guys. It's Friday? I forgot but I hope the length of this chapter makes up for its tardiness. Also it's 102 degrees and it's not really supposed to ever really get that hot here so there's like no air conditioning. Please send ice.
> 
> Also portuguese and french translations at the end!
> 
> I apologize for any typos/mistakes in this chapter. It didn't have its usual full round of revisions.

Raven knows she needs to leave to teach class in an hour, but she’s on edge, itching to go for a run, but her body is exhausted. She’s been running herself into the ground and she needs to take a break before she hurts herself, or starts developing blisters on her nub. The skin is already tender, red, on the verge of being irritated enough to cause problems. Her physical therapist is going to have a field day at her next appointment, and it’s going to start the moment she steps on the scale.

The only other thing strong enough to clear her head with a rush of endorphins is masturbating, which given the current circumstances sounds less than appealing. That in and of itself is enough to make Raven feel worse about the whole situation. Everything about sex used to make her feel great, even after her leg - yeah there was a period where she had to get used to things but she had Finn and Luna to help her through that.

Then Wick happened.

Everything got fucked up with Wick. _He_ fucked up everything.

He’s the one who… She shoves the thought from her head and rolls over onto her side so she can reach under the bed. Her fingers move deftly feeling for what she’s searching for until they wrap around a small smooth cylinder no larger than a tube of lipstick. She calls it her two minute wonder and it’s the best vibrator she’s ever owned. And Raven Reyes has owned a lot of vibrators.

Also, the last thing she wants to do is let Wick ruin a day he hasn’t even tried to contact her on yet. It’s still early, but she doesn’t want to waste a whole day worrying about something that may not happen. There’s no sense in letting him get inside her head again. He spent enough time there when they were together.

Raven grabs her laptop and pulls up a playlist, something bombastic and badass to drown out the negativity in her head. Because despite what Wick wants her to think she’s going to find a way to be happy again on her own. Finn may be gone and Luna is who knows where, but she won’t get hung up on Wick just because he had her believing that no one would love her again. That no one could love someone like her.

It makes her sick to think that she let him convince her she was weak. That her leg made her any less of a person, any less deserving. He used her body against her, and she let him.

Raven slips her shorts off and her underwear with it, her hands brush over the scratches nestled between scar tissue on her thigh. Her fingernails catch and for a moment she lets herself pick at the scab, focussing on the pull of it against her skin as she plays at prying up the edge. Her thumbnail drags a hard line across a scar.

She shakes out her hands and presses them to her face. She can fight this, and all the feeling of worthlessness Wick left her with. Raven knows she can, she will.

Still, she’s terrified no one will ever love her again, that she’s been broken one too many times, that she’s loved all the wrong people all these years. Finn, who she loved dearly but was never in love with, Luna, who refused to be tied down, Wick, who only ever wanted to control her. She let them all have what they needed, and none of them loved her like she wanted to be loved.

The press of the vibrator is cold against her skin and the first flash of movement jolting, on the edge of painful. She slides the bullet vibe between her folds, already feeling the building tension as she circles back up around her clit. Glancing to her clock she lets out a sigh, slowing her motions, focusing them in. There’s no time to build this up to something satisfying. She’s not in the mood for that anyway.

Raven tosses her free arm across her face, burying her eyes behind the crook of her elbow.

She can feel the orgasm building, almost clinical. There’s no emotion, no warmth, just nerves on the edge of pleasure. It’s hollow. A tear slips down her cheek.

Muscles clench and Raven gasps as her orgasm hits, a cathartic release that relaxes her, just enough to clear out a layer of fog from her mind, but there’s nothing enjoyable in it. Practically before it’s over she’s sitting up, sliding off the bed, grabbing her phone, her underwear, and her crutches and moving to the bathroom to clean up.

Just enough of something to get her started on the day.

As she stands in front of the mirror, her residual limb propped up on the edge for balance, she notices a streak of red running down the outside of her leg. Blood. She sighs as she bandages the cluster of scratches. She’ll get there. One day. She’ll get there, put everything behind her. Maybe she’ll be able to go home again and face her mom. Maybe she’ll-

Her phone vibrates and Raven nearly falls over as she grips the counter with her fingertips.

Maybe one day she’ll feel like herself again.

## _______________________________________

 

Lexa doesn’t remember the last time she checked her makeup so many times in one day, but she wants everything in the next hour to go perfectly. This is the first step in changing the trajectory of her future. No matter what happens in her personal life, this is her career. This is everything she’s been working toward.

Her eyeliner is sharp, and makeup flawless. Anya raided the racks at work for a new interview outfit for her. Nothing about her appearance is even a millimeter out of place. She breathes out the nerves in her stomach, tamping down the tiny vibrations running through her nerves and steeling her resolve. She’s been over her notes so many times, the questions she’s likely to be asked she has answers for. She’s done her research. If this firm is half the place she thinks it is there’s no doubt that the next hour will go well.

There’s so much at stake though. Her relationship isn’t only one thing she’s trying to fix. She wants to change the lives of kids in the system, the ones who were like her, but maybe they never had someone speak up for her the way she had Anya. Lexa had Anya to fight for her and that has made all the difference in her life. It shaped who she is, gave her the drive to be strong and to fight. There’s an entire generation she wants to pass that on to.

Lexa closes the car door behind her softly and relishes in the way her heels sound like power on the concrete as she makes her way down the sidewalk to the sleek glass doors of Trikru Associates.

Lexa breathes out and pushes the door open, her head is calm and clear and her only focus is on the interview waiting for her because in that moment there is nothing else she can do but be ready for the interview. She can’t reach out to Octavia and reassure her that when they go out later this week it will be okay. That it’s okay to avoid answering people when they ask Octavia if she has broken up with Clarke. That they all know the depth of their love for each other and it will weather this storm. As she steps inside and towards the dark mahogany reception desk she doesn’t have time to think about Clarke and what they’re going to do to help her, because this downward spiral isn’t like previous years. Clarke is struggling and no amount of love is going to keep her afloat indefinitely.

She doesn’t have time for the world of problems she needs to address, so with each step, her heels echoing loudly on the tile, she leaves behind each problem, knowing that as she leaves she’ll pick them back up. And hopefully, as she comes back out, she will have hope that the future looks brighter, less full of stress, that she can turn to the ones she loves and give them what they all want - a chance to love as they are, that maybe their little corner of the world will be safe enough that they no longer have to hide.

The woman at the front desk smiles brightly at Lexa, and picks up the phone to announce her arrival. Lexa moves to sit but is barely to the plush chairs in the waiting area before she hears the sharp click of stilettos on the floor and a low voice says her name like a command. She turns on the spot, and she finds herself face to face with one of the founders of Trikru Associates, a dark skinned woman with short natural hair. There’s a quiet fierceness to her like she is carved from stone by the hands of the old gods. Her eyes hold a light though, a hope and wonder that bolsters the strength. She is stunning and formidable.

Lexa holds out her hand, “Lexa Woods, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you face to face, Indra.” The first name feels strange on her tongue, intimate, as if they are closer than they are. Yet the other lawyer uses no last name. She is, and will be defined always, by that singular sound.

“Likewise, Ms. Woods. It is Ms.?” There is little inflection to Indra’s voice.

“I am not married, so yes, Ms. is fine.” Lexa smiles, not sure what answer would quite be best. A voice in the back of her mind whispers – _The Truth_ – capital letters and all. She shoves the voice into a corner of her mind, locking it away with all the things that she cannot do anything about in this moment. _Not yet_. She tells it.

First she has to protect herself and her career and her girls. She isn’t sure which is most important, only that she knows her path has always led her here.

“It’s only me this afternoon, the others all had court run longer than expected.”

“I’m just pleased I was able to make this interview work out.”

“Well, when you contacted us, it was a unanimous decision to bring you in. I hope you don’t disappoint.”

A knot of fear catches in Lexa’s throat and she tries to swallow past it, a pleasant smile on her face as she keeps her voice even, “I don’t make a habit of disappointing people.”

The interview starts typically enough. They offer her water, which she accepts. They make small talk about her references, and her recent cases that were large enough to make the news... Lexa’s education, her focus, why Trikru Associates.

She smiles at that, because she spent hours crafting her response. Lexa straightens and tampers down a smile because she will never not be proud of this story and her sister, blood may never bond them but Anya will forever be her family.

“Trikru Associates is nearly unique. An all female law firm, with one of the best track records in the state. It’s not only a prestigious firm, but it’s exceptional at what it does. You and the others have crafted an environment for women like ourselves, driven, passionate, opinionated, to thrive in.” Lexa leans forward taking a sip of water, pausing, gathering her focus and Indra’s full attention before she launches into the story, the real reason why she’s here.

“When I was three I met a girl that would change my life. She was the first person that fought for me, advocated for me, listened to me. There’s power in women protecting women.”

Lexa breathes out, her mind flashing on memories of Anya sticking up for her in the group home, telling her stories at night, teaching her how to read, writing essays about why the two of them shouldn’t be separated even though they’re not related by blood.

“My sister kept us together to give us a chance at a _good_ life. To give us hope.” Lexa sucks in a breath trying to keep the tears from pricking at the corners of her eyes. “She taught me what it means to be strong and how to fight for something you believe in. But most importantly, that anything is possible.”

Indra leans forward ever so slightly, and had Lexa not been watching her she would have missed the movement.

“Not all kids in the system are so lucky to have someone who decides to advocate for _them_. Even when they have their parents, most lawyers don’t approach things with the child’s opinions and best interest in mind, it’s about the parents. I want to be their voice. I want to do for them what Anya did for me.”

“And what does your _sister_ do?”

“Anya is a fashion mogul, you’ve heard of Ogeda, yes? Your receptionist is wearing one of her blouses from last season.” Lexa shrugs and tilts her head ever so slightly, pleased with herself, and proud of Anya.

Indra raises an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

The other woman doesn’t say anything else, nor does it seem like she will. Lexa waits and watches. She’s satisfied with having stated why she wants to be here. Maybe it was too personal, but it’s the truth, Anya was her voice when she needed one, fought for her when there was no one else that cared to. If she can be that for one child she’ll have started to give back everything Anya gave her. This is why she went to law school, maybe she can help inspire another generation… another generation who will fight for themselves and those that don’t have a voice.

A small smile twitches at the corner of Indra’s mouth and Lexa meets her stare.

“We’ve recently picked up a rather high profile custody case involving a bisexual woman and her partner. The father is suing for custody, arguing the mother is unfit because she’s engaged to another woman. Would you have a problem working on cases like this?”

Lexa can barely suppress a smile. “As a member of the queer community myself, I can’t imagine I would have a problem representing such individuals.”

There’s something powerful in being able to claim her identity so publicly and positively. At the D.A.’s office she skirts around the topic even if she doesn’t keep her orientation a secret. The tension ekes out of her body even as her veins thrum with excitement. Indra asks more questions and with each one she becomes more animated, more passionate. This is where she’s supposed to be and what she’s supposed to be doing.

She just hopes the woman sitting on the other side of the table thinks the same.

## _______________________________________

 

Raven hops up on the counter in the lab despite the clearly posted signs that say not to sit on the counters. She’s the one who put the signs there so she figures she can ignore them, especially when it’s just her and Jasper and Monty. It’s September and all the summer session classes are over, but the new term has yet to begin, it’s zero week and she’s “teaching” an engineering lab, mostly it’s just her and the boys tinkering in the lab on her project. So for another week or so, it’s just them, building robots and fake limbs and trying not to burn the place down.

Her heart isn’t quite in it, and the boys have noticed. They’ve stopped trying to blow things up, and make a mess for one. For another, they’re actively doing work without being prompted. Raven almost feels bad that she’s the one slacking off.

Almost.

Monty is hunched over a small motherboard soldering on connectors, while Jasper plays with calibrating the sensory input of Raven’s new prosthetic design.

“Okay, but how baller would it be if we figured out how to harness the electrical input before MIT?” Jasper nearly manages to pick up a penny off the table with the prosthetic hand.

“We’d be rich.” Monty chimes in.

Raven scratches her leg, reaching a finger underneath the socket of her prosthetic to itch the skin underneath, ignoring that she knows she should be worried that the skin is irritated.

“You know the project is open source,” Raven nudges Monty’s chair with her foot. That’s the whole point of her research - to make high end prosthetics more customizable, and better quality. Right now a lot of more delicate motorized functions are being caught up in patents by larger companies making the price point almost insurmountable for many amputees. Granted it takes years of research and a lot of money to make significant advancements - but Raven just wants to make the technology accessible.

“I know,” Monty says. “It’s still going to be awesome when we figure this out before MIT.”

The outside door squeaks closed and all three look toward the door, waiting to see who’s made their way into the engineering lab on a summer afternoon. There’s a chorus of hey, hello, hi, that goes up when Bellamy steps into the room. He’s probably the only person not in the science department that knows how to find this lab.

“Finally,” he says. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you all day.” Bellamy pulls up a stool and leans on the counter next to Raven.

Raven shrugs, “I never turned my phone back on after class. I’ve been here since. The new TA knows better than to interrupt lab time, can’t say the same for my office hours.”

“I thought we were getting breakfast, brunch, whatever?”

“ _Merda._ Damnit,” Raven mutters as she digs through her bag for her phone. “ _Será que eu esqueci mais alguma coisa?_ ”

“You know we understand when your curse in Portuguese, right?” Monty glances up from his soldering. “Not so much the rest, a little, sometimes, but the cursing we understand.”

“Yep, no preserving our innocence.” Jasper grins and waves at her with a mechanic hand.

“That ship sailed long before you met me, _meus meninos_. I’m sorry, Bell.” Raven doesn’t look up from her phone as the notifications pour in. Twenty-four text messages, nineteen new emails, three voice mails. She shuts the screen off without checking any of it.

“It’s just not like you to miss plans.” Bellamy picks up a piece of lego from the bin of beginning robotics equipment on the counter and turns it over between his fingers. “I thought the school’s golden girl was more on top of it than that.”

Raven rolls her eyes and groans, “Don’t call me that.” It’s what the other professors and PhD candidates call her behind her back, as if she hasn’t earned her position like the rest of them. As if she isn’t one of the leading engineers in biomechanics research in the nation. They act like the university just rolls over and gives her whatever she wants.

“What? You are.” Bellamy tosses the lego back in the bin. “Ever since they settled after your accident you can do no wrong.”

“ _Não abre a matraca_.” Raven glares at Bellamy.

“You know I don’t understand you when you speak Portuguese.”

Raven ignores him and doesn’t bother to translate. “The department was negligent and that accident changed my life. I lost my _leg_. Just because the university paid up doesn’t mean that they cater to my every whim.”

“You’ve got a shiny new lab.”

Jasper slides out of his chair and leans against the table across from Raven. “The old lab was falling apart - they needed to rebuild it before someone lost more than a leg.” He shoots Raven an apologetic look behind Bellamy’s back.

“Whatever.” Bellamy turns around and spreads out his arms along the counter as he leans back against it, yawning as he continues to speak. “So what were you doing this morning instead of spending time with your favorite Classics professor?”

Her phone rings and she glances at the screen. Her blood runs cold. “Just you know, getting in some time for self love. Something you’re probably far too familiar with, since.. you know…” Raven slips off her stool only half paying attention to anyone else or what she’s saying.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I met someone.”

“I’ll believe it when I see her, Bell.” Raven scoops up her bag and spins to look back at Jasper and Monty. “ _Meninos_? Lock up will you? I’ve, uh, got to go.” Raven gestures to her phone and all but power walks out the door. She needs air and space and to be as far away from where anyone would expect her to be as she possibly can be.

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke huddles down over the bar and her drink, wishing she had chosen a booth before they had all filled up. Now she’s stuck at the bar with her back and sides exposed when all she wants to do is be alone with her thoughts, which is impossible when she’s approachable from all sides. It’s been a rough week… month? She realizes she’s lost track of time and takes another sip of her beer, waiting for the fuzz and the numb to set in so she doesn’t notice the fact that she’s exposed, so that she can stop wishing she was curled into the back corner of a booth where she can watch the world instead of allowing anyone to watch her.

None of it matters though. Not really.

She could list all the reasons that show how much it doesn’t matter.

Every fall she finds herself slipping in some way. Her head made sluggish with the pain of the memories and the accompanying loss, even as more often than not it isn’t a specific loss so much as it is the descent into questioning. How does she move forward when the person she wants to turn to is gone? How does she find herself again when there's’ a hole inside her?

Clarke takes a long pull of her beer. After ten years she should have more of a hold on her life than this. The pain of her father’s death shouldn’t mess her up this much. Knowing that every year this will happen to varying degrees she should be able to slow and halt the downward spiral and it’s all too familiar tug that she’s beginning to think has nothing to do with her father’s death and everything to do with something broken inside her.

Because what else could it be, but her being broken?

Her life is nearly perfect. She is loved in so many ways - more than loved enough. Octavia and Lexa are more than she deserves, supporting her in everything, giving her all that she needs. Except an answer for this. There’s no reprieve for the vicious block in her mind and neither of them understand the opaque wall that erects between herself, her mind, and the world. They support her, they love her, but this has never been their reality.

She finishes her beer and signals Niylah for another as loneliness and isolation gently wash over her; it’s almost comforting in its familiarity. Somewhere in the haze of her mind she decides to close down the bar, even though it’s early now. She doesn’t want to go home and force Lexa and Octavia to face her right now. The last thing she wants is for them to feel like they need to take care of her. As if she is their responsibility. She’s the one who is broken and it’s her responsibility to put herself back together.

Tomorrow.

She’ll figure out something tomorrow, when her head is clear. Tomorrow will be better and it will be fine.

“Earth to Clarke.” Niylah taps her on the top of the head lightly to get her attention, and Clarke bolts upright, swaying slightly on the stool as she does.

“Is anyone meeting you tonight? Niylah asks nonchalantly, but there’s a frown in her voice.

Clarke rolls her eyes waves her empty glass back and forth. “Nope, but I’ll take another.”

Niylah shakes her head, “I’m cutting you off.”

“It’s like five and I’m not even drunk.”

“No, but I’m still cutting you off.”

“It’s not your call if I should or shouldn’t drink.” Clarke slaps down a ten on the bar.

“If you were anyone else I’d throw your ass out on the curb right now and you know it.”

Clarke has the wherewithal to look abashed as she slides the ten off the bar and back into her pocket. She mumbles an apology and hunches over again, not wanting to look at Niylah and the worry and judgement etched on her friend’s face.

“What’s going on, Clarke?” Niylah asks softly. She takes Clarke’s empty glass though, and fills a new one.

“It’s nothing,” Clarke mumbles, wrapping her fingers around the pint glass. She stares at the amber liquid but doesn’t take a sip, not yet. There’s a futility to it.

“Right,-” Niylah starts before she hears someone call for her at the other end of the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

Clarke is too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice Niylah pull out her phone after she’s done pouring drinks and shoot off a series of texts.

## _______________________________________

 

Raven sinks down beneath the mailboxes outside her apartment, she had spent a good portion of the last hour or so wandering through downtown after listening to the voicemails Wick had left her. She had left them on her phone, afraid to delete them, but with them there she keeps listening. Like some sick penance.

_Where are you? I’ve been calling for hours. You don’t return my texts. I’m worried about you Raven. This isn’t like you. Please call me back._

_Listen. We can’t keep going on like this. I’m not responsible for what happens next. I’m coming over, you better be home when I get there. I know you’re not teaching, it’s between terms. And we’ve been over this before. You can’t just go out without me. I’m just trying to keep you safe._

Wick is there, in front of the building trying to sweet talk one of her neighbors into letting him into the main door. Raven’s heart is pounding so hard in her chest she thinks it might bruise, and she feels like her entire body is shaking from fear, her stomach so uneasy she’s afraid she might throw up. Inside her head she’s arguing with herself that it can’t really be him, but it is. It’s Wick. And he’s been trying to find a way into her secured apartment complex and likely her apartment as well.

She glances over her shoulder and spots him duck around the side of the building to where the fire escape is.

Raven fumbles with her phone and dials Octavia’s number before she can talk herself out of it. She should just call 911, get the police here. Part of her brain reminds her that Octavia is the police, and she’ll know what to do. And she doesn’t want just anyone from the force arriving. She needs Octavia here because she doesn’t have to explain the situation to her. Octavia will just know.

She doesn’t have to explain how she’s weak and needs someone to get rid of her ex.

There’s a metallic crash from the alleyway and Raven whimpers. She hates herself for being this scared.

“Raven?” Octavia asks, the call having connected seconds ago. Raven can hear the confusion in her voice, the worry that clearly states she heard the whimper.

Raven swallows thickly, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s here.” She forces the words across her tongue, “I think Wick is trying to break into my apartment.”

“Are you inside?”

Raven shakes her head.

“Raven?”

“No,” she breathes out.

“Are you somewhere he could see you?”

Raven hears her turn away from the receiver and call to her partner, to dispatch a unit.

“No.”

“Good. Stay there, and remind me what your address is.” Octavia’s voice is calm and Raven latches onto it like a safety net. The only thing keeping her from shaking apart is her friend’s words on the other end of the line. “I’m on my way.”

## _______________________________________

 

It’s nearly six by the time Lexa settles back down into her car after the interview. She’s riding high and excited. She doesn’t have the job yet, Indra wants her to meet the other partners first, but the feeling she has is that everything will be good.

She turns her phone back on, flicking off the _Do Not Disturb_. Two hours and she has three missed calls and a myriad of text messages.

Lexa opens the group chat with Octavia and Clarke first.

 _Octavia 5:08pm :_ held up at work

 _Octavia 5:08pm :_ keep dinner warm for me?

 _Octavia 5:08pm:_ xoxoxo ;)

She shoots off a quick reply and wonders why Clarke hasn’t said anything. Clarke replies to everything unless she’s busy at work or teaching… and even then. Lexa pushes her worry aside, she’ll be home soon enough, and opens up the next message.

 _Niylah 5:41pm :_ Hey, Lexa. Sorry about this, but Octavia isn’t picking up her phone or answer text messages and I know Clarke isn’t your responsibility - you’re the roommate not the girlfriend, but someone should come pick her up. The bar is filling up and I can’t keep an eye on her and she isn’t herself. I cut her off before I normally would because this just seems worse than it normally gets. If you could just get her home so O can take care of her when she gets in?

Lexa leans her forehead against the steering wheel, her heart aching because Niylah should be reaching out to her because she’s one of Clarke’s girlfriends, not because she’s a second choice. She texts Niylah back and tries to ignore the gnawing worry in the pit of her stomach, tries not to think about how out of it Clarke must be for Niylah to be reaching out to them.

 _Lexa 5:58pm :_ I’ll be there soon. Thank you for thinking to text me.

She wipes a tear trailing down her cheek and swallows down the pressing worry as she starts her car and tries not to race toward The Trading Post.

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke spins the empty pint glass in front of her in slow circles on the bar top, wishing she had a way to fill it back up but knowing better than to call Niylah over again. The last thing she wants is Niylah to kick her out. She just wants to slowly collapse in on herself in peace, having accepted that this is what is happening in her head she feels powerless to stop the way the fog builds up between her and the world. She’s too tired to fight it. Maybe another day when she feels a hint of a glimmer of hope and remembers what it feels like to not be trapped like this in her own head.

The fog leeches the color from the world, anything at all seems like too much effort, and she’s prepared to sit on this bar stool until someone insists she has to move. Nothing feels like it has purpose anymore, consumed as she is by the void growing inside her, cavernous and terrible. There’s an emptiness she can’t escape and no matter how close someone is they feel like they’re a thousand miles away. She resists the urge to lay her head down on the bar and instead focuses on the traces of foam still in her glass.

She’s decided that the worst part of all this is that she knows her dad would want her to be better than this. That he would believe she has it in herself to fight back and clear her mind, find the help she needs, but Clarke isn’t sure she knows how. Not anymore. The older she gets the less fight she feels like she has left. Existing is exhausting.

There are options out there, things that are supposed to help, drugs, and therapists, but she’s been down that road before involuntarily and she can’t bring herself to face it again. What if it doesn’t work? What if it takes away the part of her that feels like her?

Clarke lets out a long exhale and slides her glass across the bar as Niylah walks past. A few seconds pass and Niylah slides back a pint glass full of water. Clarke takes a sip, only to realize it’s soda water and lime, like she used to order when she would come to the bar to see Niylah but had class the next morning, or had to camp out in a corner to get her homework done.

Niylah is already at the other end of the bar by the time Clarke looks up to thank her.

That’s when she sees Lexa, one hand on the bar, half a dozen steps away, immaculately dressed, but her eyeliner is smudged. Clarke’s stomach bottoms out, like she’s on a rollercoaster that took a sudden drop. She can’t meet Lexa’s eyes, and the worry etched there so instead she knocks back half of the soda water and lime.

There’s a slow burning fury that starts building. She doesn’t need someone to babysit her. She doesn’t need to be taken home. And in no way should her ex be texting her girlfriend. Not that NIylah knows. Clarke shakes her head and feels the room spin.

Lexa’s hand lands lightly on the small of her back and Clarke nearly jumps but she tenses her muscles and keeps herself firmly rooted on the barstool. She doesn’t want Lexa to have to deal with her when her head is so disconnected.

Rubbing her thumb in small circles on Clarke’s back, Lexa sits down in the stool next to her. She wants to be able to pull Clarke into her arms, hold onto her until this has passed, whatever it takes… but Clarke is ignoring her and they’re in public. Despite the interview she just had, there’s no guarantee they’ll be coming out anytime soon.

Lexa reaches up and tucks a wild strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear and when Clarke recoils at the touch Lexa feels tears sting her eyes. Clarke has a fierce strength to her, to have been hiding this much pain long enough for it to bubble over and out of her in such an all encompassing way.

Clarke glances up at Lexa, just a slight tilt of her head, but that’s all it takes for Lexa to see the despair in her eyes that are normally bluer than the sky, but somehow, in that moment, look like the eye of a storm.

All Lexa can think is that Clarke is infinitely stronger than she knows, despite what she is feeling, and it takes all Lexa has to not pull her close.

She looks up, anywhere but Clarke, just for a moment to gather herself. And Niylah is there, clearing the pint glasses that have accumulated.

“Clarke, sweetheart.” Niylah starts softly.

Clarke flinches at the softness of it.

“It’s time for you to go home. I know she’s not your girlfriend, but I’m sure Octavia will be off work soon. And Lexa’s a pretty good substitute.”

Clarke snorts, her laugh is incredulous and Lexa can feel the truth bubbling on the surface, ready to spill out. Lexa grips Clarke’s arm lightly, enough that Clarke turns to face her and she narrows her eyes, equal parts _don’t be an ass,_ and _don’t out us._ The amusement on Clarke’s face melts away as if it had never been there.

“Thank you, Niylah.” Lexa places a steadying hand on Clarke as she stands up.

“Just take care of her, yeah?”

“Yeah -”

“-I’m not _five_. I don’t need to be watched over.” Clarke jerks away from Lexa and makes her way across the bar and out the front door.

“I’m sorry.” Lexa sighs.

“I’ve heard worse from her.” Niylah shrugs and hands Lexa back her credit card. “You didn’t have to pay her tab you know. I’d get it from her next time.”

“Like you said, I’m taking care of her… Thanks for texting me.” Lexa turns and follows Clarke out before Niylah has a chance to say anything else. She doesn’t want another reminder that there are parts of Clarke everyone else knows more about, that everyone else seems more equipped to handle. They’re still learning each other, still figuring out how they fit together, and how they hurt without hurting each other.

## _______________________________________

 

Octavia makes Lincoln drive. Raven wasn’t the only one calling about the attempted B&E on their block, which means whoever Raven saw is in fact attempting to break in. She doesn’t want it to be Wick, she doesn’t want to believe that anyone would really be able to shake Raven this badly… but she also wants it to be him so she can put him somewhere he can never get to her again.

She’s seen her share of terrible things done by terrible people, but Octavia will never be able to reconcile willfully terrorizing another person. Maybe it just hits too close to home, reminds her too much of what life was like growing up. Maybe it’s just that she knows that people deserve better. Most of them are good on some level - however weird and wild they get.

When they pull up in front of Raven’s apartment complex there are already two other squad cars there. She doesn’t see Raven though and that cuts through her calm because she feels responsible. She knew something was going on and she didn’t do anything and it’s her job to protect people.

“Octavia?”

Lincoln hasn’t spoken a single word on their drive from the station instead letting her sit in her thoughts because he knows she would just get worked up. Not that she hasn’t managed that herself.

“Is your head on straight?”

Octavia unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face him, blurting out the words before she’s really had a chance to think it through, “He’s been stalking her, Lincoln.”

“What?”

“It’s her ex. He’s… she won’t say, but I know he keeps calling and texting her. A few times I think he may have been following us on our runs, but I’ve never seen him and she’s never given me his full name.” Octavia shakes her head and breathes out trying to calm down the boiling rage inside her. “She doesn’t want to talk about it, but I can tell it’s getting to her.”

“You’re staying out here with Raven.” Lincoln says decisively. “I don’t want you going inside.”

“No, we’re taking him down, taking him in.” Octavia isn’t going to sit still when there is something she could be actively doing.

“I need you to get a statement from Raven. You’re head is too wrapped up in this.” Lincoln starts to get out of the squad car but stops short. “Did he ever do anything before they broke up?”

Octavia shrugs, “She hasn’t said. But this is _Raven_. She’s unflappable.”

“And she’s definitely flapped. Got it. I’ll let the other units know and we’ll make a plan, assume he’s dangerous.”

The next several minutes are a blur. They start with debriefing the other cops on the scene and getting the layout of the building. He’s definitely inside. Octavia wants to bring him to justice, there’s nothing forgivable in what he’s done, stalking someone, making that person fear for their safety in their own home. There’s a part of Octavia, the part filled with rage, that wants to be the one to take him down, her knee to his back and his face on the concrete. She swallows that rage down, knowing it isn’t worth it to release the rage, knowing it will only make her stupid and make her make mistakes. And right now the last thing she wants to do is make a mistake because this is someone she knows.

Cops move into position, covering the exits and moving in on the building; Octavia finds Raven huddled under an emergency foil blanket, leaning against one of the squad cars. She looks small and vulnerable, and even though her gaze is downturned Octavia can tell her eyes are wide and white with shock; she’s visibly shaking. Her skin is ashen.

Octavia takes a step closer to Raven, reaching out to brush hair back from her face before she drops her hand. Raven is already curling in on herself before Octavia can reach her. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I threw up,” Raven’s voice is hollow.

“Has anyone gotten you anything?” Octavia balls her hands into fists, keeping her voice calm, angry that no one has stayed behind with Raven, even just to take her statement.

Raven indicates the foil blanket but doesn’t look up.

It only takes a few moments of rummaging in the back of the squad car for Octavia to find a fresh bottle of water and a packet of trail mix. She leads Raven away from the cars, away from the apartment and over to a bench on the edge of the small park across the street. There are people standing around watching, seeing what’s going on, she glares at them and they start moving again, skirting around the perimeter.

Octavia hands the water over. “Rinse out your mouth.”

Raven does so without comment. No joke, no protest.

It breaks something in Octavia to see her friend like this, the one who has overcome insurmountable odds. Her hands tremble as she tears open the packet of trail mix. She tears off a sheet of paper from her notebook and dumps the contents there, picking out the m&ms before dumping the nuts and raisins back in the plastic and handing it to Raven.

“Thanks.” Raven manages a half hearted smile as she tucks her good leg up under herself and huddles further down under the emergency blanket.

Octavia shoves the m&ms in her coat pocket and pulls out a pen. “I’m sorry, but we have to go over the official report. I know you don’t talk about him, but I need you to start from the beginning and tell me what happened.”

Raven sighs and straightens a little. “The beginning beginning or the beginning today?”

“Let’s start with today, and his name.”

“Kyle Wick.” His name feels like acid in her throat and she’s worried she might throw up again. Taking a sip of water she shakes her head, reminding herself that he’s not getting to her. The police are involved now, and nothing that happens going forward will bring him back into her life.

Some of the tension seems to drain out of Raven as she tells Octavia how she’s been keeping her phone off lately because he won’t stop messaging her. That she had changed her number after they broke up and she isn’t sure how he got this one. Earlier in the day she’d missed plans with Bellamy and turned on her phone to see what else she might have missed. The voice messages he left had scared her and she didn’t come home right away, instead wandering around downtown, avoiding anywhere he might expect her to go, but when she got home, she saw him there, talking to her downstairs neighbor and then she saw him go into the alley and towards the fire escape.

She queues the voice mail messages he left and and hands her phone to Octavia before falling silent and sinking into the bench.

Octavia listens. The strain in his voice, the careful words, how the first message sounds almost civil, pleasant… but she can hear the patterns, the way over months this behavior would beat someone down, confuse them, convince them that they were the ones in the wrong.

“Do you have any more messages from him, ones like this?”

Raven nods.

“Can you forward them to my work email?” Octavia doesn’t want to ask the next set of questions. She’s afraid of the answers, because she knows what they are. “When did this start?”

“Remember when we all went out for dinner and Niylah had us play that phone game?” Raven straightens up, squaring her shoulders.

“That was back in July, right?”

“Yeah, it started a little bit before then. At first he was just texting me, then he started calling. He showed up at my apartment once. I don’t know how he got in downstairs. Someone must have let him in. I think I’ve seen him a few times when I’m out running.”

“That day we went up to the gorge?”

Raven nods, “I’m sorry. I feel like I’ve put you in danger.”

“This is my job, Raven. Is there a reason you have to believe Kyle is dangerous?”

“I… yes,” Raven’s voice is broken.

Octavia grips her pen tightly enough she thinks it might snap. It’s just one of those cheap plastic Bic pens and she can almost feel the plastic giving way. “I need you to tell me what he’s done.” She keeps her voice level, unemotional. She’s gathering more information than just a simple B&E report would need - but this is not just a run of the mill trespassing. This is at the minimum stalking… and at worst… She doesn’t let herself finish that thought, instead turning an encouraging look to Raven. “Whatever you tell me is confidential. This is work.”

“I know. It’s not that. I’ve never told anyone. He hardly ever did anything _wrong_ but it was all so very wrong. Everything was my fault, every fight, he made me believe I could never get along without him. That I was too weak. He cared about me though, in some twisted way. I just didn’t realize until…” Raven takes a deep breath and Octavia can’t keep herself from reaching across the small space between them and squeezing her friend’s hand. “He punched the wall near my head once. Pushed me onto the bed and held me down. He didn’t... “ Raven pulls her hand away and takes another drink of water.

“It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, but he never did anything I could… none of it was bad enough.”

Octavia swallows and her throat feels tight. She wants to scream that any of that is bad enough. Any of that is a reason to fight back. “Did he physically hurt you?”

“Just bruises, but it was my fault, I’m the one who struggled.” Raven spits out, when she continues her voice is softer. “I know it wasn’t my fault.”

“No. It wasn’t. But you left him, yeah?” She’s trembling with not being able to pull Raven close, but she’s at work and she has to finish work before she can be a friend. “You did the right thing. And now he isn’t going to be able to harass you again, if that’s what you want.”

There’s a small commotion across the street. Two cops flank a tall blonde man with blood streaming down his face. Four other cops follow behind. Raven shifts and for a moment Octavia can feel anger thrumming through her, as if she’s a breath away from storming across the street and attacking. And maybe she is, but the other cops are shoving the blond into the back of a squad car already and he’s out of sight. Raven deflates.

“I’ve got to go catch up with Lincoln and make sure everything is squared away. Turn in all this paperwork to the arresting officer. They may call you with questions. They’ll need to know if you want to press charges, but you have about a day to decide that. They’ll be holding him for a while. Your building owner may press charges, since he didn’t just break into your apartment. But if you want to seek anything beyond that… press charges for harassment and stalking. You have grounds for a restraining order.”

When Raven doesn’t respond beyond a small nod, Octavia stands and starts to walk towards her squad car. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

“Octavia?”

“Yeah?” She turns and Raven is on her feet, right behind her, like there’s an invisible thread between them and Octavia is her lifeline.

“I don’t think I can stay here alone tonight.” Raven straightens up, but she’s trembling, her voice wavers.

“You can stay with us, we’ve got the room, and there’s the bed in Lexa’s room.” Octavia grins because they both know it isn’t really Lexa’s room. “Once I’m finished here we’ll go pack you a bag for however many nights you want.”

Raven ducks her head, a quick nod, “Thanks, O. For coming when I called, for being the one to talk to me instead of some stranger.”

Octavia can’t hold it back any longer and she closes the distance between her and Raven, pulling her in for a hug, trying to find a way to convey that things will be alright. “I just wish you had told me sooner.”

“Me, too.” Raven whispers.

If Octavia feels the warm dampness of tears on her neck she doesn’t mention it, she only pulls Raven closer and hopes that she’s right and that from here on out Raven will be safe from Kyle Wick, that this is the last time he gets the chance to terrorize her.

It breaks her to see the people she’s close to in pain. Especially pain that she can’t fix or take away. There’s nothing she can do to undo what he’s done. She can only try to stop him from doing it again. It’s why sometimes she finds herself at a loss with Clarke, there is nothing there to physically fight. How do you protect someone from a memory? How do you keep someone from hurting when there’s no external force acting upon them?

She pulls Raven closer and tells herself to remember to text Lexa, because tonight their house is going to be full of people in pain, and the night won’t pass by smoothly.

## _______________________________________

 

Clarke leans against the window sill in her bedroom, her forehead pressed to the glass already warmed by the setting sun. The view is west, looking out towards downtown and she can see the outline of it, the bridges and the buildings and behind it the sky colored red and orange, fading to cotton candy pink and purple before descending into midnight blue at the edges of what she can see.

The city descends into night, but even so, it’s still bright and alive inside the grid of downtown.

She wishes she could find a way to feel alive herself in her own descent. All she feels is regret and sorrow, and an overwhelming feeling that she has disappointed everyone who loves her. The passage of time is supposed to heal all wounds but this one refuses to stay closed, instead ripping open with regularity. Except there’s no blood, no sutures to sew, Clarke feels like she is powerless to stop its pain.

Her mother had tried to force it shut when it was raw and fresh, doctors and chemicals that made her feel like her body was not her own, that split her head in two, she felt worse off than she did with the wound gaping in her soul. But the crying subsided, and if she fought she could almost pretend things were normal, that everything wasn’t just out of reach, that she didn’t care. Octavia had made her lists of what she needed to do each day, simple tasks she could cross off, go to class, eat lunch, do homework… some days she needed more than that.

So she learned to live through the healing and ripping open, again and again, year after year. Cherishing the months where she was alright, but also wary of them because she knew they would always come to an end. She learned to function when her head was fighting against her. It was easier to fight herself than to fight the drugs. At least she could still feel like herself.

Clarke sinks heaver against the window, watching as the sky grows dark, completely lost in her head, the rest of the world slipped away as she tries to escape the pain in her heart. Today has been bad and she has apologies to make. Mostly to Niylah and Lexa. Especially to Lexa. She’d been downright mean on their drive home. So much that when they got there Lexa had handed her water and ibuprofen and sent her upstairs. That had been more than an hour ago.

The alcohol is receding from her brain and all that is left is regret and a sense that she is a terrible person.

She doesn’t hear Lexa enter the room, doesn’t know anyone else is there until Lexa’s arms wrap around her waist.

Lexa rests her chin on Clarke’s shoulder and pulls her close. Her heart is heavy with everything that she cannot fix. All she wants to is take away the pain, but she knows that at best, maybe she can make the pain less lonely. When Clarke lets Lexa hold her, she feels like it’s a small victory.

For a moment they watch the sunset together in silence, just holding on to each other. Clarke brings her hands up to hold onto Lexa’s arms.

“ _Tu sais… quand on est tellement triste on aime les couchers de soleil_.” Lexa presses the words to Clarke’s hair like a prayer, each word soft, breath warm and familiar. They come to her like an old friend and she thinks on what they mean, the forty three sunsets - how we chase the ending of each day when it’s hard to get through, how we count them out and bide our time until we’re ready to see the sun rise again. How sometimes the sadness of the sunset is marked by the fact that another day has passed and something has yet to end.

Clarke turns her head, pulling away from Lexa just enough to meet her gaze and Lexa isn’t prepared for the rawness of that look - the way her bright blue eyes are dull and empty, even the pain she held onto earlier seems muted and grey. The pleading for release buried beneath a layer of apathy. She’s hollow, paper thin, as if the barest touch would shatter her completely.

Lexa pulls her closer as gently as she can, lips soft in Clarke’s hair, on the delicate skin in front of her ear, on the top of her shoulder. She wants to pull her into bed, but she keeps them there in front of the sunset on the edge of the end of the day.

Clarke’s voice is barely a whisper, “Sadness… and sunsets?”

Her voice is soft, “Yes. Those that are really sad love the setting sun. The little prince was sad and one time he walked around his little planet, moving just enough to watch the sunset forty-three times. The sadness overtook him, and compelled him to continue on existing in that pain… until he was ready to move on to the morning.” Lexa presses her nose to Clarke’s shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have this pain.”

Clarke’s voice is hoarse and rough, “I’m sorry.”

“I love you. I’m not blaming you.”

“For what I said earlier, in the car.”

“Thank you.” Lexa stands up a little straighter and tugs Clarke with her, backing them up until they crash against the bed, falling together side by side, and face to face on top of the comforter. She reaches out, brushing her thumb across Clarke’s cheek. All she wants is to help her find a way to cope, to find a way out of this darkness, maybe to stay out of it. “Clarke… have you ever thought about talking to your doctor about this? Maybe finding a tool of some kind to help you get through this? There’s no shame in needing to take something or talk to someone, especially if it helps you clear your head... it seems like something to try perhaps.”

“No.” There’s a flicker of anger across Clarke’s face.

“I just hate to see you hurting.”

“It’s not an option.” Clarke pulls back from Lexa and rolls over, curling up tight, her knees to her chest.

When Lexa reaches out she recoils from the touch.

Lexa’s fingers curl back slowly away from her girlfriend’s side. She lets her hand fall to the bed and slowly she pulls it to her, holding herself close. Clarke flinching away from her felt like a hot copper wire pressed directly to her heart, an electric shock. She isn’t sure how long they lay like that, Lexa watching Clarke try to hide her tears, not touching, not talking, but when she finally brings herself to leave, knowing that Clarke isn’t ready to be comforted by her again tonight, Lexa feels as heavy as the look in Clarke’s eyes while she watched the sunset.

## _______________________________________

 

Usually Raven would insist on carrying her own things, but she’s exhausted and Octavia grabbed her bag and her crutches before Raven had even gotten out of Lincoln’s truck. Lincoln says something about how he’ll get Octavia’s motorcycle out of the back and then take off. He nods toward Raven and Octavia hefts the duffle higher on her shoulder before she’s turning toward Raven, her hand on the small of Raven’s back as they walk up the driveway and toward the front door.

Octavia is whispering to her about how she can stay as long as she needs and that they’ve got an extra key so she can come and go as she wants. It all feels surreal. Like nothing this afternoon happened, that Wick won’t be messaging her tonight, that she won’t have to wonder if he’s going to try to visit her again, that in the morning she can check her phone without fear.

“I’ll be okay,” Raven says, reaching out to stop Octavia from walking in the front door.

“I know.” Octavia offers up small smile. “You’re Raven Reyes, complete and total badass.” She reaches out and squeezes Raven’s arm. “But you don’t have to be okay if you aren’t ready to be.”

Raven nods. Octavia opens the door and pushes inside.

The living room is heavy with silence that is only punctuated by the occasional sniffle from the couch. Lexa bolts upright, rubbing at her eyes and nose. She tosses a tissue toward the waste basket and moves quickly towards the front door.

All Raven has time to think is that Lexa’s eyes and nose are red from crying as Lexa wraps her arms around Raven. She lets herself sink into the embrace, just for a moment, because she can tell the tears aren’t on her behalf. As Lexa pulls away, the words are already past Raven’s lips. “What happened?”

Lexa shakes her head, “Nothing.. It’s nothing.. Just-”

“It’s Clarke,” Octavia supplies, her voice tinged with sadness.

Lexa nods and takes Raven’s things from Octavia, moving them toward the bottom of the staircase.

“She’s not doing well.” Lexa wraps her arms around herself. “I know she’d be down here to see you if she weren’t…”

“It’s okay.” Raven shoves her hands in her pockets, feeling out of place, like she’s stepped into another private moment she shouldn’t necessarily be privy to. “I’m exhausted anyway.”

“I never got around to making dinner, otherwise there would be something warm, but if you’re hungry I can probably find something.”

Raven shake her head. “Maybe in the morning. I don’t want to take up anymore of your time tonight.”

Octavia stuffs her hands into her coat pockets, unsure what to do and finds the m&ms there. She makes a mental note to take them to Clarke once they were all settled. “Definitely, we’d be bad hosts if we didn’t feed you at all. But if you get hungry, the kitchen is yours.”

“Thanks, I’m just going to take my things upstairs and settle in for the night. I’ve already got the wifi password, so I don’t really need anything.” Raven moves away from Lexa and Octavia and reaches for her things.

“Do you want some help getting that all upstairs?” Octavia asks.

“I got it, O.” A smile quirks at the corner of Raven’s mouth.

“I’ll bring you a glass of water when I come upstairs - feel free to use whatever bathroom you want, and you know where the guest room is.” Lexa nods, her voice unsteady.

The three of them stand there for a moment, uncertain, knowing that nothing is right that night. There’s a chance to move forward, move on, but that day. That is a day the sun needs to set, and they need to walk away from, because living through it once has been trying enough.

Raven disappears upstairs and Octavia slips her jacket off, tossing it to the back of the couch before wrapping her arms around Lexa. They hold onto each other, rocking slightly, just feeling each others’ heart beat.

“Was anything okay today?” Octavia asks quietly.

“I had my interview. They want me to come back for another.”

“That’s good, yeah?”

“Yeah, it is.” Lexa says sadly, tightening her hold on Octavia. She pulls back slightly and kisses her forehead. Octavia returns the embrace and Lexa thanks the stars that she has more than one girlfriend in that moment, someone to hold onto her when things get hard with the other one. “I think I pushed Clarke on something I shouldn’t have. I may have made things worse.”

Octavia kisses Lexa’s cheek and rests her head against her shoulder. “What was it about?”

“I asked her if she’d thought about talking to her doctor about medication or therapy.”

“Shit.” Octavia let’s her forehead fall to Lexa’s shoulder and repeatedly hits her with it a few times. “Abby forced that on Clarke right after Jake died. I think it fucked her up almost as much as his death. She’s sensitive to medication… it didn’t go well.”

Tears start rolling down Lexa’s cheeks again, and she is certain she won’t be able to stop them again anytime soon. It had been hard enough to hold it together for the few moments Raven had been downstairs. She holds onto Octavia tighter, wishing there were an easy answer, and knowing that this is going to be a battle they all have to fight together if they’re going to find a way through.

## _______________________________________

 

Octavia sits down heavily on their bed, reaching out toward the lump of blankets that Clarke is hiding underneath. She finds a leg, then an ankle, and squeezes gently. Clarke shifts, not quite pulling away but moving enough that it’s clear she doesn’t want comfort in that moment. Octavia flops back on the bed and presses the heels of her hands to her eyes.

The shower in the master bathroom turns off - Lexa will be out soon and then they’ll be navigating sleep. One girlfriend who doesn’t want to be held and two girlfriends who desperately want to be holding her.

“Clarke?” Octavia asks as she unbuttons her slacks, pulling them down and kicking them off her legs and onto the floor.

The only response she receives is a small grunt of acknowledgement.

Octavia starts again, softly, “Raven is staying here tonight.” She pauses to see if there will be a response, when there is none she continues. “You know all those texts and call she’s been getting but refuses to talk about? Even though… it’s all been her ex - who is apparently a lot of an ass in addition to being a stalker. He broke into her apartment, so she’s staying in the spare room tonight.”

Octavia rolls over wanting to tug the blankets down to look at Clarke, see if she’s really there at all, but she doesn’t. Instead she unfastens her bra and takes it off from under her camisole; she tosses it toward the closet.

The silence weighs on her, so much so that her stomach is heavy with it. She keeps talking to keep from feeling, “Lexa had her interview today, she said it went well. I really hope she gets the job. It seems like a better place for her career-wise, and maybe it will be good for us all too.”

Clarke rolls over, fingers creeping around the edge of the comforter before she pulls it down. Her eyes are swollen and red, her skin blotchy as if she’s spent the day in bed crying. Octavia knows that isn’t the case, and the pain of everything wraps around her, making her feel helpless and left wishing she had a way to protect Clarke.

There’s a harshness in Clarke’s gaze, an anger and pain only kept in check by an unrepentant sadness.

“Is Raven okay?” Clarke’s voice is rough and raw.

Octavia scoots up on the bed so they’re eye to eye. “She’s shaken. We arrested her ex on B&E charges. I’m just glad she wasn’t home when he broke in.”

Clarke nods, closes her eyes, and rolls over; Octavia lets her go.

It feels like a short lifetime before the bathroom door opens and Lexa emerges. She crosses the room, turning the lights off, cracking the bedroom window open. Slipping onto the bed on top of the comforter with Octavia she wraps her arm around her girlfriend and presses as tight against her as she can.

“Is…” Lexa whispers the singular word, letting it hang in the air, knowing her concern needs no explanation, tonight, right now, they don’t need words to decipher the heaviness in the air that clings to them.

Octavia shakes her head no; Lexa presses a kiss to the back of her neck. A few moments later Octavia feels tears drip onto her skin, first on her neck, from Lexa, then her own on her arm. It’s as if something in the world has broken, Clarke in so much pain and closed off, Raven, stoic and hiding in their guest room. And somehow it’s been left to the two of them to put it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese:  
> Merda - Shit  
> Será que eu esqueci mais alguma coisa? - Did I forget anything else?  
> meus meninos - my boys  
> Não abre a matraca. - shut up (lit. don't open your mouth)
> 
> French:  
> Tu sais… quand on est tellement triste on aime les couchers de soleil. - You know– one loves the sunset, when one is so sad…
> 
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, in case you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome)


	19. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 5 | 10 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing witty from me today because it's 3am and I just woke up for a flight. Portuguese translations at the end. Y'all are awesome <3

Octavia wakes to the sound of the shower downstairs running and Clarke clinging tightly to her front; Lexa is just beyond, close but not touching them, her hand reaching out out toward Clarke, half curled in on itself where it rests in the valley of sheets between them, her eyes are heavy lidded, but open, watching them both sleep.

The sky outside is grey and dark, the clouds not fully backlit by the sunrise yet. Octavia thinks that today would be a good day to stay in bed, except she needs to work on the case report for Raven’s charges, and Lexa needs her to appear in court… and Lexa has court – but at the same time Clarke’s fingers are tangled around the edges of Octavia’s tank top, Clarke’s forehead pressed to her sternum, and Octavia doesn’t want to move, afraid of what might be waiting for them once the day begins. Her heart sinks in her chest as she meets Lexa’s eyes, red and puffy from crying and lack of sleep.

Octavia scootches closer to Clarke and reaches toward Lexa, coaxing her across the bed until she’s pressed up against Clarke. Grabbing the blankets she tugs at them, pulling them over their heads until they’re encased in a bubble of warmth and semi-darkness where nothing can touch them. Nothing else, nothing more than already has.

If only time could freeze.

Their breath heats up the little cocoon giving it an ethereal quality, as if they’re a step out of time with the world. Octavia reaches across Clarke to brush her fingertips along Lexa’s cheek.

Clarke stirs between them, nestling down, demanding contact, but she doesn’t wake.

“What do we do?” Lexa whispers. She twists to kiss Octavia's fingertips.

“I have to be at work today-  _ you _ have to be at work today.” Octavia shakes her head and buries her face against the pillow. They have to go to work but they need to be home; they need to be right here. And downstairs is Raven, one of their closest friends who is too scared to go home alone. Today is a day for being together and protecting one another.

The real world can wait.

Of course, the real world doesn’t understand; it doesn’t allot for this kind of thing. 

Lexa wraps her legs around Clarke’s, inching closer, her hand on Octavia’s waist, tugs on her until she can feel three heartbeats, asynchronous, but somehow together. She moves her hand to Octavia’s neck, twirling the baby hairs at the nape around her fingers, brushing her thumb across Octavia’s pulse.

Alive. Happy. Together… that’s all she wants for them. Not an always happy fake façade, but real happiness, the kind that breathes, up and down in and out so that the emotion is something alive. 

“O,” Lexa whispers.

Octavia turns her head, half her face still buried in the pillow and Clarke’s hair.

“What if we ask Raven to stay here today?”

“Neither of them would be alone, and I would feel better if someone were here.” Octavia presses a kiss to the top of Clarke’s head.

“As would I.”

Clarke makes a small noise, waking, groaning, stretching as much as she can as she is still pressed between her girlfriends. The three of them shift, limbs untangling and tangling once more. Clarke moans and shimmies, vying for more space. “Hot,” she mutters. Eyes fluttering, but closed.

Lexa throws the covers off them and they’re hit with a rush of cool air. Octavia curses and Clarke shivers. Reality seeps in like the morning light. Hearts ache, and there are no good answers, only acceptable ones, temporary ones, ones that only get them to the next sunset.

Wrapping her arms around Clarke, Lexa holds back tears as Clarke yields into her. Getting up can wait a few more moments. She reaches out and twines her fingers with Octavia’s, kisses Clarke’s forehead and then the tears that fall on her cheeks, certain that this is the most important thing she’ll do all day.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven wakes before the rest of the house. They had all been up late. In the other room she could hear desperate hushed voices, and heavy sobbing breaths late into the night. She had tried not to listen, tried to sleep, but her own tears and restless aching heart had kept her awake.

Her mind spent the night racing, running through emotions. The hatred at what Wick had made her into, that weak cowering thing that she barely recognizes in the mirror. The fear that when faced by him again she’ll never feel strength, only a churning in her gut and bile in her throat. Memories of his hands on her ghosted along her arms, tightening around her wrists as she fought off the memories of her pleading with him to let her free.

Raven had slept, fitfully, in a feather soft bed, woken to a warm familiar shower, and to a home, while not hers, that was also comforting. She feels almost at ease, even in her loneliness. The shower was just as Raven knew it would be, seeing as she uses it after most of her runs with Octavia. It isn’t outfitted for ease of use and she has to sit, and as much as she hates it, she’s used to it. She can hardly ask her friends to dump a small fortune on remodelling their bathroom for her, no matter how often she takes advantage of it.

Raven runs her hands through wet hair and tugs at her running shorts as she leans on her crutches and surveys the downstairs. No one else is up, at least they haven’t come downstairs yet. Her stomach rumbles. Even with the familiarity she feels out of place and uncertain of what to do. She feels out of place in every aspect of her life, as if the person she has become is unrecognizable. The last thing she wants to do is go home right now, because she isn’t sure what she will find when she does.

Home isn’t a place she has anymore. Not really. Raven hasn’t called her mother in months, dodging calls and replying with pathetic excuses via text. And her apartment, which felt like a sanctuary, has been violated by Wick. This house, these walls, her friends, this is the last safe space she has and she isn’t sure if it’s really hers.

After all this time she still doubts that they really want her around. How much of their offer is genuine friendship, how much is it because she’s Bellamy’s colleague… and disabled. Raven shakes her head trying to dislodge the thought from her head, but it’s persistent and worms its way into her heart. She closes her eyes, trying to hold off tears, knowing that before Wick she never would have questioned this. Even with half her leg gone she had found a way to feel whole, accomplished, worthwhile. Even with Finn dead she had found it in her to love herself.

She stretches her fingers and adjusts her grip on her crutches, trying to suss out what she would do if this were her best friend’s house. What did she do when she would wake up on Finn’s couch before they were together? She would cook breakfast, something to thank him for giving her a reprieve from the nightmare she found herself in.

Raven crutches into the kitchen, moving to familiar cabinets, reaching in familiar directions for ingredients and cooking utensils. Her discomfort dissipates as she cooks and she knows her grandmother would be proud if she knew Raven was taking care of her friends by feeding them. All at once the thought warms her heart and feels like a knife to her gut. She should call home at least. 

She should  _ go _ home. It’s not like she even has to leave the country, just cross the city.

It’s been so long and after everything she worries that she’ll just be a disappointment. That maybe she can never really go back home, because it will never be like it was before. She’ll never be like she was before.

Raven hears footsteps on the staircase. One set quick and clattering, one, barely there, delicate.

“Oh my god it smells good in here,” Octavia crashes against the counter and pulls down coffee mugs from the cabinet. She pours herself a mug and starts to boil water before Raven waves her mug of tea as indication that she’s already gotten something for herself to drink. Octavia clicks off the electric kettle and hops up on the counter to survey Raven’s work.

“Just pancakes,” Raven murmurs, but she can’t help but smile.

“Protein ones or regular ones?” Lexa clicks on the electric kettle and shuffles through the cupboard for the particular green tea that she wants.

“No coffee?” Octavia’s eyes are wide.

“What do you think, Woods?” Raven’s retort overlaps with Octavia’s.

“Raven’s rubbed off on me I think. I don’t want to be jittery for court today so it’s a tea morning.” Lexa leans against the counter next to Octavia and tugs her close to press a kiss to her cheek. “And protein pancakes actually sound good…”

“Okay, but Raven’s actually  _ are _ good.” Octavia smiles, her toes curling, and she sips at her coffee.

“This is true,” Lexa hums happily.

Raven shakes her head and flips another pancake on the plate she’s keeping warm in the oven. “You two act like a good breakfast is a miracle.”

Octavia pulls a long face, “You have never been subjected to Clarke trying to cook.”

There’s a pause, the only sound is fresh batter hitting the griddle, steaming on contact. Just like that the little bubble of comfort and normalcy is broken, everything that felt right tinted by the heavy reality surrounding them. Clarke, alone upstairs… and Raven, welcome, but here because the world can be a terrible place.

Lexa slides against the counter until she’s pressed to the side of Octavia’s leg, and Octavia reaches out to gently caress her back. They sip at tea and coffee, waiting for just a moment to see if the ache lifts.

Raven turns back to the pancakes she’s cooking, focusing on cooking instead of the building, bubbling feeling in her chest. Her skin crawls with the need to be held and she shoves that feeling down, ignores the trembling ache, accepts that this is how things are now. She watches her friends out of the corner of her eye thinking that nothing that beautiful will ever be hers again and that perhaps she’s used up all her good graces in this life, all her chances at love.

Maybe they died with Finn. Luna left once he was gone, and Wick was who followed.

She nearly burns the next pancake.

“Raven?” Lexa clears her throat.

Raven tilts her head and glances up at Lexa as she opens the oven to put another pancake on the plate to keep warm.

“If you don’t have a class to teach today, do you think you could stay at the house with Clarke?”

The words nearly leap out of her mouth because Raven doesn’t want to leave this house, doesn’t want to leave the safety it provides. She didn’t want to have to ask, just hoped that maybe the extended invitation had been real. Raven tilts her head to the side, “I could make that work.”

“We just don’t want to leave Clarke alone all day,” Octavia leans her head against Lexa’s. “And we can hold your ex for most of the day, but just in case I’m going to see who’s on patrol near here and ask them to keep an eye on the house… unless you decide to press charges.”

Raven flips the next pancake too early and it folds over on itself.

“Just text me about that later.” Octavia murmurs apologetically. She slips off the counter and squeezes Raven’s shoulder as she passes out of the kitchen. She feels like a bit of an ass, having brought up all the pain looming over their day before they’ve even made it through coffee or started on breakfast.

Taking the stairs two at a time she slows before ducking into the master bedroom. Clarke is still curled up in the middle of their bed just where she and Lexa had left her. Octavia leans against the wall just inside the door, wiping at her face, careful not to smudge her makeup. This is the hard part, facing Clarke when she’s like this, when the life is drained from her and her eyes are distant. Octavia takes a calming breath and prepares herself because Clarke will either lash out or ignore her.

She knows it’s just temporary, that this will pass, but she wishes there were a way to make it easier for Clarke. She wishes she understood better so she could help. In all their years as friends, all their years together, she hasn’t been able to make this part of Clarke’s life easier, not really.

Octavia presses off the wall and crosses to their bed crawling onto it and curling up in front of Clarke. She gently pulls the comforter down and Clarke throws her arm over her face and burrows down into the pillow. Reaching out she brushes her fingertips across Clarke’s forehead, tucking the stray hairs back behind her ear.

She scootches closer.

“Raven’s going to stay here today. She doesn’t have class to teach and I don’t think she wants to go home yet… she made pancakes… if you’re hungry.”

Clarke nods and presses slightly against Octavia who kisses her forehead.

It takes all her strength to pull herself out of bed instead of crawling under the covers and holding her girlfriend. Octavia holds her breath until she knows she won’t start crying. All she wants to do is help and fix… and she’s learned that when it comes down to this, that’s the one thing she can’t do no matter how hard she tries.

##  _______________________________________

 

A steady silence falls over the kitchen as Octavia makes her exit.

Lexa watches Raven fold back in on herself, shoulders drawing forward, eyes downcast, hands tugging on her shorts and tank top as if she’s suddenly uncomfortable in her own skin. She finishes up the last of the pancakes, flipping the last one onto the plate in the oven. Raven doesn’t look to Lexa as she moves around the kitchen, using the counters instead of her crutches to move herself around. Lexa sips on her tea, watching, heart aching.

In the past year Raven has become her friend, someone she trusts as much as her girls… as much as Anya. She loves the fierce pride Raven carries, the way she lives her truth on her sleeve, her heritage, her sexuality, her disability, her intelligence… everything Raven does is loud and proud and it hurts to know that Raven felt she needed to hide the truth.

At the same time she understands. Lexa understands burying the pain down deep inside and keeping the world from finding out, constantly pretending that everything is fine and that every moment of every day she isn’t withering away deep down inside, questioning if things will ever change or if this is just the new status quo. Accepting truths she shouldn’t have to, living with scars and bruises.

Lexa looks over Raven’s form, seeing one of the strongest people she knows on the edge of breaking apart. She wonders how much Raven’s ex did to make her like this, and she wants to ask, but she knows better, what Raven wants her to know will come out in time. And Lexa can wait. As long as Raven is safe… then she can wait.

Raven glances up and Lexa tilts her head until their eyes meet. Lexa swallows down a trembling breath at the vulnerability in Raven’s gaze. Everything is laid bare in that look, all of Raven’s fear that somehow she’s alone in this. She runs a shaky hand through her hair and tries to reassure Lexa with a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Three steps and Lexa is across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around Raven and pulling her close, one arm tight around her waist, the other around her shoulders, hand snaking through still damp hair to press Raven’s head to her shoulder. She presses her face to the top of Raven’s head.

The hug takes her by surprise and Raven freezes. Lexa isn’t openly affectionate with many people… her girlfriends, her sister, of course. She can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Lexa hug anyone other than those three, and Lexa had rarely initiated any of those hugs. Her heart speeds up and she tries to regulate her breathing, calm her heart through sheer strength of will. It’s just a hug.

But, oh, how Lexa had looked at her like she  _ understood _ .

Raven leans into Lexa, letting her head rest on her shoulder, lets herself fall against her friend as she feels Lexa arm tighten against her waist to take her weight. Gingerly she wraps her arms around Lexa, afraid that if she lets herself go she’ll hold on too tight, tight enough to bruise and break and isn’t sure which of them will come away hurting more. 

Lexa scratches her fingers lightly over Raven’s scalp.

Waves of emotion rush over her and she’s breaking against the shore that is Lexa, a safe cove in this storm.

Her fingers tangle around Lexa’s shirt, gripping it tightly in her fists as she tries to keep her arms gentle yet firm around Lexa. She needs this, and she breathes out trying not to sob, trying not to break.

Breathe in, tightening her fists, wrinkling Lexa’s shirt.

Breathe out, press the bridge of her nose against Lexa’s collarbone.

Remind herself that she’s safe. That it’s okay to need someone. That it’s okay to want to be held.

She can’t let anyone know how desperately she needs to be held, and the sob that wracks her body feels a bit like a betrayal, but Lexa is there to catch her as she breaks.

##  _______________________________________

 

The pillow is damp beneath her face but she can’t bring herself to move. She’s kind of used to it at this point and Clarke isn’t even sure it really matters. Not when every breath feels like a knife to her chest, a hand gripping tight around her heart, and her throat is pulled so taut she doesn’t know if she could scream out the pain she’s in.

This is the worst year since that first one. She knows she shouldn’t be this broken up. It’s been ten years. She keeps telling herself that it’s been ten years but she keeps wanting to tell her dad about her girlfriends and all reasons she loves them and how Octavia nearly got hit by a car but Raven saved her, and Lexa brings home mangos and it’s like she’s seventeen again, the cuts on her knees not yet healed.

She can't remember what it feels like to breathe without pain. She knows she did at one point, but it doesn't seem like she ever will again.

Clarke curls up tighter underneath the duvet knees pressed close to her chest, face pressed between the pillow and the mattress, one arm across her eyes and exposed ear, trying to block out what little of the world presses down on her in the empty bedroom. It’s dark and quiet, the curtains drawn, and the door only open the barest of cracks. Octavia slipped out a few minutes ago, maybe it was longer, Clarke isn’t sure, all she knows is that she’s alone in the room.

Alone the guilt of it all starts to weigh down on her.

She’s already cancelled class today, and she can tell that the way she’s acting has everyone worried. There’s a waver in Octavia’s voice when she talks to her that extends to the kisses she places on the top of Clarke’s head, and Lexa’s been so soft and gentle and quiet like she’s afraid of being anything more in case Clarke shatters. All of that presses down on her, knowing that it doesn't matter how good they are to her, she's still all sharp edges, cut and bleeding on the inside where pieces of her soul have been chipped away.

The faintest of voices at the back of her mind tell her she's being a bit dramatic, but what else is there when all she can focus on is the pain?

She should be better for them. She should be better because she has them. Her life is good,  _ really good _ , and it's going to be her fault if this all falls apart.

Clarke can feel the sob building in her throat, the pressure behind her eyes, but she doesn’t know if she has the energy for it, her face already sticky with dried tears. She’s exhausted.

All she wants is for this pain to be over.

She breathes out.

Then in again, pulling in another breath, counting to three in time with the thud of her heart, holding it steady inside her chest. One. Two. Three. Four. And out… seven. Again. Again. Again… again.

First the covers come down. The air is alive and vibrant, chill against her sleep-warmed skin.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Fourteen counts. Fourteen heartbeats.

Raven has been charged with watching her.

She sits up, bowing forward to press her head to her knees. She can feel the jagged scar on her left knee press to her forehead and she tries not to think about the day she got it. Every cell in her body is yearning to lay back in bed, pull the covers over her head once more and block out the world. If only they hadn’t left Raven here she could, but she doesn’t want Raven to worry, she doesn’t want anyone to feel like she has to be taken care of. She doesn’t need to be taken care of. Not like this. She isn’t a  _ risk _ .

Clarke clenches her teeth, she can manage just fine, even if she just wants to stay in bed all day.

All week…

Clarke swings her legs over the edge of the bed and slides to her feet, determined to prove that she is strong enough on her own and the last thing she needs is someone set with the task of taking care of her. She is not an invalid. She is not ill beyond functioning. She has her mind about her however bogged down she is, however much she wants to give in to this insurmountable weight in her head.

The guilt that she has worried her girlfriends enough that they believe Clarke needs someone to watch over her breaks what little is left of her anger. That resignation is the only reason she forces herself to get up.

##  _______________________________________

 

_ It’s the end of the summer Clarke is seventeen and she’s downtown with her dad at the Saturday market picking up groceries and after they’re meeting Octavia and Bellamy for ice cream on the pier. The sun is high overhead and Clarke can feel a thin line of sweat trickle down her spine. This is her favorite time of year, school hasn’t started yet and it’s still warm out, but the nights are starting to get cooler. Right now she’s wrist deep in a fruit stand and she’s fairly certain this is a perfect day. _

_ “Dad, we’re getting mangos too.” _

_ “How much fruit are we getting Clarke?” _

_ “All of it.” _

_ “Then you’re carrying it,” Jake winks and nudges her shoulder. Clarke rolls her eyes. “How much time do we have?” _

_ Clarke leans over and grabs Jake’s wrist to turn the face of his watch in her direction. “Twenty minutes until we need to be on the waterfront.” _

_ “Excellent, I’m going to run and put more money on the meter, you good to pay for things?” _

_ Clarke holds out her hand expectantly, opening her eyes wide and innocent. _

_ “Ah, yes. The money. Remind me why you don’t have a job?” Jake teases. _

_ “I think you said something about, ‘you can build character next summer, this summer we’re going on a road trip’. Which was lovely, my darling father, but I need to pay for the food.” Clarke opens and closes her hand into which Jake deposits enough to pay for their groceries. “You don’t need change do you?” _

_ Jake musses Clarke’s hair, “I’ll meet you on the corner and then we’ll go find Octavia and Bell.” _

_ “You got it, dad-io,” Clarke shoots finger guns at him barely containing a grin at her own actions. Jake laughs and shakes his head as he walks off into the crowd. Like father like daughter.  _

_ There’s more produce than their reusable sacks can reliably carry, but Clarke makes it work. The mangos will be worth it - they’re nearly the size of her head and she can tell how juicy they are. Market days are her favorite because that night means they get to have fresh food that practically tastes like it just came out of the garden. Tonight is going to be prawn tacos with fresh salsa, and mango salsa, too. They'll need to stop for tortillas to make chips. _

_ Clarke is practically skipping, or she would be if she weren’t carrying so much, as she weaves her way out of the market and onto the corner that leads down to the pier. She’s just set her bags down on the concrete to wait when she spots her dad halfway across the street. That’s when it happens. _

_ Neither of them see the car speeding toward the intersection until it’s too late. _

_ Jake pushes the person in front of him out of the way, Clarke later learns his name is Atom, but he doesn’t make it out of the way himself. Clarke can’t stop watching, doesn’t turn away as she watches her dad’s body fly up and over the car, before the car crashes through two more people and into a retaining wall. _

_ Two dead and Clarke can’t remember anything. _

_ It’ll come to her in flashes, but she remembers realizing she’s soaked in blood and Octavia having to hold her still while she screams and the paramedics try to clean her up to make sure she isn’t injured because she can’t speak to tell them that she didn’t get hit. She remembers the smell of blood and viscera and it’s six years until she can eat red meat again. She remembers what his body looked like, blood running down the cobblestoned street toward the water, the bridge behind them covered in onlookers. She has scars on her knees but doesn’t remember falling. _

##  _______________________________________

 

It's been an hour since Octavia and Lexa hugged her goodbye for the day, handed her a set of keys they told her to keep, and rushed out the door, both late for work, and Raven still hasn't seen Clarke. She's kept pancakes in the oven just in case, but before long it'll be lunch and she knows she should probably cook dinner too.

That’s the only thing that makes sense. Comfort food. Comfort for those cooking and those eating. There’s too much pain happening right now.

She glances to the keys still in her hand that she hasn't been able to put on her own key ring yet, and knows deep down she owes them more than just dinner. This is a lifeline they just threw her without a second thought.

Raven scoots her way upstairs, backwards, one step at a time, not wanting to use her crutches.

The door to the master bedroom is still closed and she wonders if she’ll see Clarke at all today.

Raven ducks into the spare room, the one that's supposed to be Lexa's. She slips on her prosthesis, buckling it in place, then digs her keys and her phone out of her bag. Clipping the new keys onto her key ring she tosses it back and flops onto the bed. She’ll think about what those keys mean later, not sure if she’ll ever use them, but comforted by the fact that she has the option. Before too long she should go home, but not now, not just yet, and besides she promised Lexa and Octavia she would stick around for Clarke until they got home. Which means if she wants to cook anything she needs someone else to run to the store for her.

A short series of texts later, after some apologizing for cancelling the last day of labs, and promising them full credit for the day, she’s convinced Monty and Jasper to make a grocery run for her. This probably wasn’t what the university meant when they gave her lab assistants, but this is what she needs. If she wants to get back to a place where she can teach classes in two weeks, be in her home and not afraid… this is what she needs to do. The boys will understand once she tells them.

Once this is over, she can give them the overview. Maybe skip out the terrified part and the… skip out everything he did except these past couple of months. They don’t need to know that, no one needs to know what she allowed to happen. She tries to remind herself that it isn’t her fault, all the things she knows her therapist would have said if she had still been going. Part of her misses therapy, the unassuming therapist that would listen to her and help her put her head in order, that allowed for her to have space so she could come to terms with what happened to her leg… she knows that she should go back, that she never should have stopped going.

He had wanted her to stop, said it wasn’t worth her time that she was fine, and then he broke her down-

Raven nearly jumps off the bed when she hears a soft knock on the doorframe that interrupts her thoughts and Clarke appears in the doorway. She looks like hell, and Raven thinks she probably looks much the same, today isn’t a contest about who has it worse though. Today is about getting through the day.

Clarke leans heavily against the wall just inside the spare room and blinks slowly in the bright morning light streaming in the east facing windows. It hurts and she's tempted to leave her eyes closed, slink back into her bedroom and under the covers. There it's dark and quiet and she doesn't have to rally to convince someone that she'll be okay. She stretches and wills her body to life. 

She opens her mouth to speak but she doesn't know what to say. Does she acknowledge that Raven is clearly there to keep an eye on her? Does she bring up why Raven is even there in the first place? Or does she ignore both of the giant elephants in the room. 

Clarke opts for the least amount of talking. "Morning," she sounds surly, her voice rough, but she doesn't try to ameliorate the implications of her tone even though she feels a bit like an ass. 

Raven sits up, and it's like watching liquid shift and rearrange, yet somehow stay solid. Clarke glowers, feeling like a frumpy sack of potatoes. 

"Hey," Raven keeps her voice soft an even and it makes Clarke frown harder. "You're up."

"Clearly."

Raven flinches and frowns before standing. "There's breakfast downstairs if you're hungry. You should probably eat at some point."

Clarke's stomach rumbles loudly enough to be audible and she internally curses the betrayal. This would be easier if she could just convince Raven she isn't needed but all she wants to do is snap and hide and petulantly pout, which will do nothing to plead her case that she is fine and does not need to be watched over. 

“I’m going to make  _ brigadeiro _ , too, and I was thinking about making  _ feijoada _ for dinner.” Raven tips her head to the side, watching Clarke, trying to find her friend through the hazy mess of pain. The distance between them is thick and uncomfortable, and Raven shifts her weight back and forth as she waits. Waiting because Clarke isn’t flinching, isn’t responding, Raven isn’t quite sure she had even been listening.

Clarke’s instinct is to shrug, roll her eyes, but she lacks the energy, and instead stares straight at Raven. “Make yourself at home.” Her words are scathing and she inwardly cringes at her own insensitivity.

Letting out a loud exhale Raven shakes her head. This is not Clarke and they both know it and right now she doesn’t have the energy to deal with Clarke being a jerk because she’s hurting. “ _ Ah pelo amor de Deus! _ When you get your head out of your ass, you can come help.” 

There’s an edge to Raven’s voice and Clarke doesn’t blame her. 

Raven gives Clarke a wide berth as she walks into the hallway. 

Clarke’s face twists, an ugly echo of how she feels, not about the situation, or Raven, but about herself. The thing Clarke hates most is how unlike herself she is when her head gets like this. It’s the thing that worries her the most, that maybe, the rest of the time, she’s just faking it, and this is her, stripped away and raw, that this is who she truly is… and this is not someone she likes.

Her stomach turns and she slams her head against the wall as she sinks to the ground, stars burst to life in front of her eyes and she takes comfort in the sharpness of the pain as it tingles along her skin, the ache radiating. It’s stupid to provoke someone who is just trying to be kind. She feels like an ass, not knowing the details of what happened yesterday, only that it was bad enough that Raven didn’t want to stay home alone last night, and that she’s still here today.

She smacks her head against the wall again welcoming the burst of light behind her eyelids. Whites and reds and pinks and oranges flickering like fireworks, with it is a moment of clarity and a sinking feeling. Her fingers itch to be occupied, as if she might need to paint but she knows that it isn’t paint she wants her hands smeared with. She smacks her head against the wall again and tears well up at the corners of her eyes.

_ That isn’t what she wants _ . It’s like a fucking mantra in her head. Everything is just confused. And the clarity of the pain isn’t helping. Clarke sinks to the floor, curling onto her side. She knows this is bad,  _ really bad _ , but she’s been through this before. She can hold on. If she just stays still she can move on.

If she just stays still.

Tears drip down her nose.

_ Still. _ She wills herself.

She cracks her eyes open, letting the tears blur the grain of the hardwood floor. Clarke reaches out and traces the shape of the color. If she just stays here…

_ It’ll be okay. _

_ It has to be okay _ .

And she wonders if she’s just lying to herself.

##  _______________________________________

It’s sometime past noon when Raven finally hears movement upstairs. First the shower, then, half an hour later footsteps on the staircase. The sound is soft, slow, hesitant, almost apologetic.

Raven had nearly gone upstairs a dozen times to check on Clarke. Stood at the base of the stairs, thoughts of calling up to her, or climbing back up, or any number of things to make sure Clarke was okay. Well, not okay, but…  _ alive _ . She didn’t think things were that bad, but it had been silent since the three distinct crashes. But right then Raven had still been too angry to go back upstairs, knew too well that Clarke would not have welcomed her if she did.

At first her mind wandered to the night before, the last few months, and standing there, in the quiet and the peace she wondered how she allowed it to get so bad again. Marvelled at how easy was for Wick to dismantle her once again and she wondered where the girl she knew herself to be had gone. The one whose strength and stubbornness meant that she never gave up when she had to learn to walk again while all her friends were out partying and going to bars. The one that started running because she didn’t want to give, she didn’t want to just be what she was before, she wanted to be more - as if her stubbornness were trying to fill the empty space left by her missing leg.

After she had gotten away from Wick she had never fully gotten back to being herself. Bits and pieces of her had come back, yes, but there was more still missing. Too much to sort out this morning, not when this peace may be transient.

As time passed though, Jasper and Monty arriving with groceries, and leaving again just as quickly as they had arrived, and Raven prepping everything for the  _ feijoada _ , and being nearly done with the  _ brigadeiro _ , she feels more like herself, and less like the scared shell she had been the night before. Wick, is, at least for now, behind bars.

She realizes she wanted to keep it that way, at least for her peace of mind. Even so, her hands shake as she texts Octavia that she wants to press charges.

But the more she feels like herself as she shapes each of the  _ brigadeiro _ the more she knows she should be checking on Clarke. It was a relief when she heard the shower start up, and another when she heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

The way Clarke steps into the kitchen is shy, as if she's out of place and it's Raven's house she's wandering around in, clad in boy shorts and an oversized flowing tank top, and an old faded, paint stained flannel. Her gaze is downcast, shoulders slightly hunched, and her skin is ashen. When she glances up to find Raven's exactly location before her gaze flicks back to the ground, Raven notices how swollen and red her eyes are. 

In short, Clarke looks even more like hell than she did earlier. 

Raven sets down the candies she's making contemplating whether she should wash her hands or simply wipe them off. When Clarke moves further into the kitchen and leans against the counter near where Raven is working, picking at the little paper cups holding the finished  _ brigadeiro _ , but not engaging her yet, Raven moves to wash her hands. They're playing a game, slowly circling each other, seeing how long they can go until someone breaks the silence. 

Any other day Raven would spin the kitchen towel between her hands and crack it like a whip at Clarke. There would be a war. There would be welts and laughter. Raven can't bring herself to act as if nothing is amiss because it's etched in the silence that has drawn a gulf between them. 

Hands now clean, she doesn't even know if Clarke would allow a hug. Some things aren't entirely about her though, and even though she's feeling better after last night Raven could use the hug, she could use the human contact. Someone she trusts. The brief hugs the night before from Octavia and Lexa weren’t enough. And this morning, when Lexa held her, it only opened her wide up, reminding her how how these past few months she’s shied away from touch, memories of Wick flashing through her mind every time someone would brush her skin… and now she is aching with the loneliness.

She doesn't act on it, instead finding it in herself to care for and protect, because that's easier than asking for help. Anything is easier than asking.  _ Not that it should be _ , she reminds herself. Baby steps. Everything now is about baby steps. 

"I'm nearly done in here." Raven sets a  _ brigadeiro _ in front of Clarke like a chocolate peace offering. 

Clarke reaches for it hesitantly, insecurity written on her features, screwing them up into something familiar and foreign all at once. Raven recognizes that look in herself but this is the first she's seen it in Clarke. 

"Thank you," the words are almost a whisper but there a ghost of a smile on Clarke's eyes as she picks up the thin paper cup and takes a tiny bite of the chocolate confection. Her eyes snap up to meet Raven's, pleasant surprise and a hint of joy lighting her up for the briefest of moments. 

Raven's always believed in the healing power of good food. Even if sometimes it isn't good for you, it is. There's power in making something for someone else, pouring your thoughts and energy into the process, things that no recipe can replicate. It's why she's never been able to make her grandmother's  _ feijoada _ just right, but as the tension in Clarke's shoulders releases she realizes that maybe she'll have her own one day. That in making something for someone again and again she'll find a way to pour herself and her heart into the meal. 

"When you're done with that you want to help me clean up? I figure I can make us something for lunch as we tidy."

There's a moment of alarm on Clarke's face. 

"Something simple," Raven clarifies. 

Clarke nods, "Okay. Where should I start?"

"Dishes. I'll bring everything to you," Raven starts to busy herself around the kitchen, scraping, stacking, wiping down. 

After a few moments Clarke abandons the half eaten  _ brigadeiro _ on the counter and moves to the sink. Tap on, water running, dishwasher open. She lets herself get lost a bit in the repetition of scrubbing plates and bowls and cups before loading them into the dishwasher. It's comforting, she doesn't need her brain. She can just keep moving, tumbling forward, feeling useful, capable, because right now she feels the opposite. 

Somehow she feels like she almost lost it, lying there on the floor of the spare room. By it she means everything. It’s that feeling of precariousness that leaves her feeling like her life is little more than water cupped in her hands. Any move and it will slip through her fingers. Holding too tightly will only ensure the loss. 

And she’ll lose everything… Lexa, Octavia, her mom. She’s so close to that reality, almost pushing them all away in fear that she might hurt them if she keeps them too close. She’ll hurt them either way. No matter what she does, because even if she works to make things better, no matter how good she gets, everything always comes back to this. It’s just a matter of time. So if she pushes them away first it won’t matter when she falls apart.

 

A plate slips from her hand and crashes to the ground, shattering on the cold stone floor, shards of white ceramic scattering.

“Don’t move!”

Raven’s voice startles Clarke more than the broken plate.

Raven reaches out, almost touching Clarke’s arm but letting her hand fall short. “I just don’t want you to cut your feet.” She nods to indicate Clarke’s bare feet.

Clarke nods and shuts off the water, staying still. She hadn’t even thought of her own safety, only a foggy sense that she should clean up the mess, but her body had yet to react to her mind. Something as simple as keeping herself from getting cut hardly seemed to matter when it felt like her existence was in question, when being upright was a struggle - a fight she wasn’t sure she knew she knew the reason for in that moment, only that she had to fight because she knew she would understand again when her head cleared up.

Raven works quickly, sweeping up the broken plate, and depositing the remains in the trash, but there’s something in her careful nature, as if it really matters to her that Clarke is okay, or maybe it’s in Clarke finally feeling the weight of how far she’s fallen from herself that Clarke beings to feel the first pangs of a potential upswing. It’s just momentum churning up instead of down, but it’s something different even if she’s still falling apart in her head.

“Thank you,” the words feel rough on Clarke’s tongue, her voice unsteady. She knows she means for more than just making sure she doesn’t cut her feet, but the words won’t come to her.

Raven makes a shooing motion with her hands, “Go curl up on the couch under the fleece - I’ll bring us lunch.” Her voice is firm but soft.

“I’m fine, I can-” Raven’s glare cuts her short and she knows this will be a losing battle if she tries to engage. The fight has gone out of Clarke, so she she steps away from the sink with a small nod of her head. As she passes Raven she presses her forehead to the other girl’s shoulder just for a moment, just long enough that Raven brushes her fingers through Clarke’s hair. Clarke isn’t ready for a hug yet. She needs to forgive herself before she’s ready to be forgiven.

Raven blinks back tears and sets to work. Lexa and Octavia should be home to hold Clarke to whisper all the things she needs to hear, remind her how loved she is, remind her of the good things in her life. Whether she realizes it or not Clarke needs someone to hold her right now. Raven doesn't really know how she ended up here, to be the one watching Clarke, but she's glad her friends trust her. That no matter how much her life is messed up and how lost she is with her own problems they still feel she's enough to take care of the precious parts of their lives. 

It's been a long time since she felt like enough.

Before long the kitchen is how she found it and she's made tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches because it's gloomy outside and she knows that Clarke would give her the side eye if she tried to feed her a salad right now. So instead she hid thinly sliced grilled vegetables in the sandwich - something she knows Clarke likes and decides to hope for the best. 

She's almost certain Clarke would never have given her an answer anyway if she had asked what she wanted to eat. 

Clarke was diligent in following Raven’s instructions. She sitting cross legged in the middle of the couch, the fleece blanket half pulled off the back of the couch and across her lap. In a way, she just looks lost, her forearms pressed to her thighs as she leans forward, staring at the floor. One hand cups around the back of her neck, holding pressure, like she’s holding herself together.

Setting the plates on the coffee table Raven sits down next to Clarke, close but not too close. She still isn’t sure if Clarke will welcome her presence or snap, but she’s willing to bet on the former after the moment of contact as Clarke left the kitchen. She’s hoping she’s right because if she’s wrong, the conversation she’s about to have could backfire.

Calmly Raven unbuckles her prosthetic leg, rolls off the sock, and sets both aside. She takes a moment to massage the muscles of the residual limb and then reaches for her own plate without a word as if she does this all the time. Truth is she doesn’t take off her leg in front of many people. Octavia’s seen her do it often, because they run together, and it’s never bothered her to let Lexa see… but Clarke has never been around really. She tries to keep calm even though her heart is starting to beat wildly, missing how her head was before Wick, she didn’t care what anyone thought. Her fingers trace idly along the scars on her leg.

It’s like waiting for judgement to fall. She itches to break the silence herself, but she wants Clarke to be the one that breaks it because then she’ll know then, that it’s Clarke that wants to talk, and not just Raven itching to try to fix something. She doesn’t miss the way Clarke’s gaze flicks to her leg before reaching for her own plate.

The silence that settles over them as they eat is different than the silence of the kitchen. It's less tense, sadder maybe, but it doesn't feel like everything is going to break - it's the realization that it already has. 

Raven watches Clarke pick at her food, watching the conflict of wanting to eat because it needs to be done and having no desire to eat even when comfort food is offered. In all the moments and depressive spells Raven has witnessed Clarke tumble into this is the lowest. She's going to need more than love and friends and food. 

As much as she wishes those things were enough to be the magic cure, they aren't. She knows first hand that the brain is an organ like any other and it can suffer an illness. Someone asking for help when they're sick should never be hard. Raven pushes aside the voice in the back of her mind telling her she just spent two months letting Wick tear down all her progress so that she's shattered again. That she should have asked for help.

That's a problem for another day, right now Clarke needs her, and Raven will patiently wait.

“Thank you,” Clarke says softly breaking the silence as she pushes a smile bite of sandwich into her mouth.

“That’s the third time you’ve said that this morning,” Raven teases, gesturing to Clarke pointedly with the corner of her grilled cheese and a tilt of her head. It’s not like she’s done much, all she’s done is cook.

Clarke is silent for a while, no longer eating her food, merely tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces and Raven wonders if even that was too much. They have to start somewhere though, they can’t just sit in silence all day, not if they want tomorrow to be any better. At some point they have to face reality, even when it hurts. Raven has to deal with the unsteady ground Wick has left her on and Clarke has to deal with the demons in her head. If they don’t they’ll never really leave this couch.

“It sounds better than  _ I’m sorry _ ,” Clarke’s voice is so quiet Raven nearly misses her words.

Raven raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sulking, and  _ you’re _ …” Clarke struggles to find the right word.

“Disabled? A stalker victim? An abuse survivor?” Raven tries not to snap out the words, and not to tremble as she labels herself, figuring this conversation has to be like ripping a bandaid off, better just get to it quickly. It’s so different saying those words out loud, knowing their truth. In her head is one thing. Saying those things out loud is like coming out all over again, the spin of anxiety wrapping around her heart, but worse. 

She knows exactly what kinds of things Clarke is struggling with, that she refuses to accept. Looking at yourself and accepting the reality of things is hard.

Clarke purses her lips because those are the things she meant, the  _ reasons _ Raven has for being anything other than okay. She can’t find any such reasons for herself, just that she’s broken, and she feels hate for how she is well up inside her. 

“You have cuts on your thigh,” the words are out of Clarke’s mouth before she can stop them.

Raven’s eyes widen, sharp and hard and afraid before she breathes out and her features soften.

“Clarke. Your mom’s a surgeon, a medical doctor, you should know this better than the rest of us, not every illness, not every disability, is visible.” Raven gestures to her residual limb, cut just above the knee, all that remains of the leg she had ends with her femur. The skin is riddled with scar tissue, some of it from the accident, some of it her own making. Not every illness is a visible one, but sometimes the ones you can’t see leave physical scars. “Sometimes, it’s all up here,” she flicks her finger against Clarke’s temple. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” 

Tears well up in Clarke’s eyes and she tries to swallow them down. 

“It’s better if you just let it happen.” Raven sets down her plate and opens her arms, offering Clarke a soft place to land.

Clarke shakes her head and presses the heels of her hand against her eyes.

Raven drops her arms and leans back against the couch, “Have it your way. Let me know if you change your mind.”

“You sound like a therapist,” disdain drips from Clarke’s voice. She simultaneously hates that she’s talking to her friend like this and the direction this conversation is heading but feels powerless to stop it because she knows it needs to happen, she just doesn’t want to admit it. 

“Probably because I’ve spent a lot of time with them,” Raven keeps her voice light, feeling the backlash already. Sometimes the only way out is through. “Have you ever seen one?”

“Yeah, bunch of arrogant fucks.” Clarke tosses her plate back onto the coffee table and curls into herself, arms crossed across her stomach. She wonders if Lexa put Raven up to this, not trusting that two people have come to the same conclusion in as many days.

“Not all of them, it’s tough to find a good one though.” Raven tries to sound nonchalant about it. She can tell she’s hit on something rough, but no matter where they go with this conversation, Clarke is hurting and she needs to do something about it or else things will always come back to this. “Can I ask what happened?”

Clarke pulls her knees to her chest, the top of her head pressed to her thighs, hands laced behind her neck. The last thing she wants to do is talk about this, with anyone. But Raven doesn’t know, Lexa didn’t know. None of them  _ know _ . Shame fills her up, because she doesn’t want anyone to know how weak she is. Only Octavia knows how bad things got after her father died, even her mother’s blocked most of what happened to Clarke out. 

She’s rocking slightly and she thinks she probably looks like a crazy person… she feels like it. Her head is reeling, grasping, everything just out of reach so she can’t find steady ground, and she doesn’t even know what she’s looking for, just, not this. Not this. She’s breathing fine but at the same time she feels like she can’t breath, her throat tight, chest aching. If she can just hold on. Hand hold. Foot step. Just make it stop so she can breathe without feeling like she’s suffocating, but that’s not going to happen because this is never ending and it’s just going to keep going and going and it always comes back to this, every year, the anniversary, or his birthday, or Christmas, and every year, multiple times a year, she feels like everything is just spinning out of her control and she needs to ask what she should do because he would always know, but he’s not here and she’s supposed to be an adult about this by now, but nothing makes sense and it feels like she’s drowning and this is going to be the thing that drags her under and finally- 

“Clarke?” Raven’s voice is soft and the touch of her fingertips against her temple even softer. She’s whispering to her, trying to coax her to unfurl, to take a breath again, which hasn’t happened in nearly a minute now. Worse comes to worse she’ll just pass out and they’ll start this all again when she wakes up. Her fingers wrap around Clarke’s wrist and she tugs gently, fingertips pressed to the pulse point there. Clarke inhales sharply and Raven thinks for a moment that maybe there will be a respite and they’ll talk. She doesn’t expect the onslaught.

“You want to know what happened?” Clarke spits the words as she sits up. All of the fear and anger at not understanding has twisted up inside her and it’s spilling out. She’s hopeless to stop it, and part of her, the part that still feels like her deep down, broken and bruised, is appalled at how ugly and spiteful she sounds. “Not one of them listened to me. Six psychiatrists and psychologists in a year. She’s acting out, better dope her up.” 

Clarke shifts away from Raven’s touch and curls into the corner of the couch. She wants to lash out and she’s afraid she will if Raven is close enough. The moment she moves she misses Raven’s touch, the part of her that still feels like Clarke trembles and she wraps her arms around herself. Tears spill down her cheeks.

“I don’t remember my senior year of high school. So don’t fucking talk to me about therapy.”  

It’s fear more than anger that makes her lash out but it all sounds the same in the end. She doesn’t like not knowing why she feels like this, why the voice in the corner of her mind thinks it’d just be better if things were over. How does she explain how hard it is to just stay still so she doesn’t do something she regrets. She wishes she could stop taking her fear out on Raven, but the floodgates are open and it all keeps tumbling out.

“Octavia could tell you better what happened, she watched it all. My mom denies it was ever all that bad, even after, I just got really fucking good at hiding it. You want to know what I know happened that year, that I don’t just remember because I’ve been told?” Clarke sucks in a deep breath and doesn’t wait for Raven to reply before she continues. “The three months I didn’t care about anything at all, not anyone, not myself, not painting, not school. Or there was the period where it felt like liquid nitrogen was being dripped down the inside of my skull. And then the time I didn’t sleep. And that was all  _ before _ I tried to quit the drugs they made me take.”

Raven purses her lips trying not to snap at Clarke for snapping at her. She kind of wants to reach out and shake her, but that will just make a bad situation worse. Instead she breathes out and waits to see if Clarke is done with her outburst.

“That sounds like hell.”

“No sh-”

Raven holds up a hand.

“You want to know what else is hell? Wondering if it would have just been better if the accident had killed you, if anyone can really love you now that your damaged, if life is even worth it now that you aren’t whole anymore. Hell is taking a knife to your own skin because the pain clears your head for a few seconds.”

Clarke deflates. She softens into the corner of the couch, her arms loosening a little, and she has the grace to look abashed. The only thing she can think to say is apologies and so she stays silent.

Raven takes Clarke’s silence and the release of tension as an invitation to continue. “It wasn’t easy, and I had help until I found the  _ right _ therapist.” Raven scoots closer to Clarke before leaning over and grabbing the glass of water on the table. She takes a mouthful and then hands the rest to Clarke. “Drink, you’ve been crying, you’ll get dehydrated… It took me a while to find the right therapist, but the thing is, once you do, you’re not going to have someone pursuing a treatment plan that  _ you _ don’t want to pursue. This is  _ your _ life, and  _ your _ health. So you get the ultimate say in what happens.”

Clarke holds the glass in both her hands, not drinking the water but listening to Raven. The glass is cool in her hands and for a moment she thinks she can just sit there and it’ll be okay. Her head is quiet, the pulsing, the pain, the constant awareness, slipping away, just for a little bit.

“Water. Drink.” Raven gestures at Clarke and Clarke can’t help but follow the command.

Clarke sets the empty glass down on the coffee table. She feels lighter, not okay, not good,  _ better _ even seems a stretch, but the pressure and the panic are no longer building. There’s breathing room inside her head.

“I’m afraid I’m going to lose my mind again if I go back.” Her voice is small and thin, and she hates it, but not as much as she hates the anger. “If Octavia hadn’t of dumped my pills down the sink at school I don’t know what would have happened… and after the withdrawals were so bad. Octavia would sneak into the house on school nights and hold ice against my neck and forehead so I could sleep, as my feelings started returning, we ran into other problems too. It must have been for months but that first weekend was terrible. She took care of me while I threw up, cold sweats, and shaking… it was worse than being on the drugs.”

Clarke sniffles, tears coursing down her cheeks, and rubs at her face because fuck she’s tired of hurting and crying and trying to hold herself together and pretend she’s alright until there’s a few moments when she is. And when she is okay it’s just the fear of when will this end because there’s no real rhyme or reason when it does sometimes.

“Hey,  _ hey _ ,” Raven says softly catching one of Clarke’s hands in her own. “I’m here, okay. And you’ve got Lexa and Octavia. You aren’t alone in this.”

Clarke nods and focuses on holding Raven’s hand and trying not to plant herself directly in the middle of her friend’s lap and demand to be held. She focuses on the calming swipe of Raven’s thumb across her wrist.

“Listen, therapy isn’t easy, even without drugs… I was on Zoloft for a little while, I didn’t like it, but it never did anything like what you’re describing to me. It helped enough that I could get started. I had a lot to get through after I lost my leg. I mean, the phrase alone, I didn’t lose my leg, I know exactly where it went. My tibia was shattered when some stupid freshman dropped a faulty O2 canister and it rocketed across the lab and straight into my leg.” Raven mimics a small explosion with her hands, complete with sound effects, she laughs and smiles when Clarke echoes her with her own small watery laugh. 

“When I woke up my leg was gone, there wasn’t much choice. I had to figure out how to be me again even though part of me was gone.”

“How?” A million half formed questions race through Clarke’s mind but that’s the only one she can hold onto long enough to articulate.

“When it happened I was dating my childhood best friend, Finn, and back then we were really close with both our families. Brazilian immigrant parents and grandparents, so you know, everyone was there. And the people that loved me helped me stay afloat until I found a really good therapist.” Raven offers up a small smile, “I learned to live with half a leg, doesn’t mean I don’t struggle sometimes but I found ways to cope, an arsenal of mental tools,” Raven smiles wryly. “I started running after the accident, not before. Having that to push myself towards really helped me focus the rest of my recovery.”

Clarke runs her finger across the scars on her own knees, rubbing the seam of her dad’s flannel against them, the only things she has left of him and the day he died aside from her memories. She wonders how talking about anything made anything better, but Raven is probably one of the most badass people that she knows. It doesn’t seem like anything will ever stop her. Maybe there’s a way to approach this therapy thing that doesn’t break her. Just talking to someone doesn’t seem like it would be enough.

Nothing she does ever seems like it will be enough.

“My dad got hit by a car just before I turned eighteen. He was trying to save some kid a couple years younger than me, they both died.” She taps the scars on her knees with her free hand. “Octavia told me later I collapsed screaming when it happened. She only heard it.”

“That’s rough, that must have changed everything for you and your mom.” 

Guilt squeezes around Clarke’s heart at the selfishness of her pain. “What happened to Finn?”

Raven feels her heart plummet. Talking about her accident was one thing, but she hasn’t talked about Finn with anyone aside from her therapist who she hasn’t seen in more than a year. Wick didn’t want to know much about him, other than he was dead, and she’d never told Wick about Luna. Really, Luna was the last friend she had talked about Finn with and that was years ago…

Raven takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, counting in her head, three counts in, hold for four, seven counts out. Again…again… again. The words start tumbling out, quick and jumbled together, as if she’s afraid she won’t be able to say it if she doesn’t say it all at once.

“Finn died of cancer when I was twenty-five. He was twenty-four. The year we both turned twenty-two he had been diagnosed with Advanced Burkitt Lymphoma. About fifty percent of patients respond well to chemotherapy, Finn didn’t. It was like my accident all over again. We were in the hospital all the time. Finn had been there for me, so of course I turned around and looked after him.”

Raven curls her foot up under herself and tries to ignore the ache in her heart. Or the flood of memories, hiding with Finn under the kitchen table, peeking up at her  _ Vovo _ , while she cooked, getting in trouble because their faces are smeared with chocolate they weren’t supposed to eat. She lets it ache, continuing on as tears start to fall down her cheeks.

“A year after he had been diagnosed a good friend of ours, Luna, she’s a bit of a nomad, landed back in town. Finn barely had good days anymore by then, or well, a good day meant a day he didn’t spend it throwing up or asleep, or doped up on meds.” Her voice starts to crack. “Luna made a lot of things easier… Finn and I,” Raven looks to Clarke, feeling the weight and the weariness, and wondering why it’s this part of the story that sticks in her throat, when one of the few people that might actually understand is sitting in front of her. 

“He wanted me to be happy and taken care of, and he knew I was pan, and open to unconventional relationships… and even as sick as he was he could see the potential. If he hadn’t have been so sick the three of us might have been happy together. Luna moved in with me, by the time we were together Finn was living at the hospital anyway. Well, dying, really. It was the longest I’d ever known her to stay anywhere. She left not long after he died.”

Raven had stopped wiping her eyes somewhere in the middle of her story, just letting the tears drip down her face and into her lap.

“It was all so much, my leg, then Finn’s cancer. Having a therapist there to talk to, someone who wasn’t weighed down by what was happening, made it so I didn’t bury us all with my pain. Still, I couldn’t go home after Finn passed. His mom still lives next door to mine. I couldn’t face the idea of  _ home _ without him there. It’s not like therapy made everything magically better.”

“I don’t know how you managed years of therapy, or surviving all of that.” Clarke tugs the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and lays it over both their laps. Her mind is reeling from Raven’s story, the truth and the pain of it, and she knows that isn’t everything that’s happened. None of that explains what happened last night with Raven’s ex. She wonders how everything seems to get so fucked up so easily.

One second everyone is fine and then the next they have cancer, or they get hit by a car, and then they’re dead.

“I just don’t know how you do it, breaking yourself open in front of a stranger.”

“It isn’t easy, but it helps me. I think… I think I might go back. I stopped going when Wick and I got together, he convinced me I was better and  _ ‘I didn’t need that crap _ .’ His words, not mine. After that, shit got pretty fucked up. And now I have a stalker.”

“All I have is a dead dad though, it’s not like I have…” Clarke waves her hand around grasping for words.

“Stop.” Raven’s face falls and she glares sternly at Clarke. “This isn’t the pain olympics. Your head processes things in a way that means you need some help, you need  _ tools _ to cope. There’s nothing shameful in that. I’ve had my share of  _ not coping _ over the years. As you not so delicately pointed out I have cuts on my leg. I have a  _ stalker _ , that I let  _ back _ into my life.” Raven collapses back on the couch, tired with the weight of everything now that the truth was out in plain sight. She wants to make Clarke understand but she doesn’t know if she has the energy. She wants to see them both happier and stronger. “I asked for help, and the world didn’t end, Clarke.”

Clarke curls up on the other end of the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest, trying to figure out where she goes from here. She isn’t sure, but maybe she can figure it out. Like Raven did, she has people, she isn’t alone, and she can figure out the next step. “Okay.” The word is just a whisper, but she feels Raven settle in deeper to the couch and she knows she’s been understood. 

A gentle quietness settles over them and Clarke is nearly asleep before she thinks to say anything.

“Raven?”

Raven hums to indicate she heard.

“You aren’t alone in this either.”

Raven nudges Clarke with her foot, “Thanks.”

##  _______________________________________

 

The rain is pouring down when Lexa pulls into the driveway with Octavia, the day having stretched on impossibly long, and court running overtime. They were late getting home. Tired in ways they shouldn’t be as they walked up to the front door. It feels like a lifetime ago, finding Clarke in her studio, and bringing her back to bed pliant but surly underneath the exhaustion, but it’s not yet been two days. Neither knows what to expect when they walk in the front door.

Octavia has her keys in her hand, the door nearly open when she feels Lexa lean her forehead against the back of her head.

“How do we do this, O?” Lexa whispers.

“We love her.” Octavia answers softly. She turns so they’re face to face, and the uncertainty she’s met with breaks her heart. “She’s still our Clarke underneath all the pain.”

“I know, but what if it doesn’t get better?” Lexa sniffs, trying to keep from breaking down in tears on her own front porch, knowing that the moment she walks through that door they need to be strong for Clarke and for each other, knowing that they still have Raven to help back onto her feet.

“We find a way, there’s always something that makes it click back into place for her.” Octavia wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. “There’s always been something, it just takes time.” She’s not sure who she’s trying to convince more that this will pass, that the world will right itself. Nothing feels like it has before.

“What though?” Lexa brushes back strands of Octavia’s hair from her face. “I feel like this is bigger than us.”

“We’ll get through this, okay?” Octavia leans forward and kisses Lexa gently. “All of us.”

Lexa nods and sniffs and wipes at her nose, a small smile tugs at her lips as she watches Octavia do the same.

When the door opens and they step out of the wet and the cold they aren’t expecting the brightly lit living room, or the pungent, mouth watering smell of dinner still cooking, or the peaceful silence, and the sight on the couch. All that’s visible is a mess of brown and blonde hair on opposite ends of the couch poking out from underneath the oversized fleece that they keep on the couch.

Clarke and Raven are breathing softly and in sync, the blanket rising and falling gently with each breath. It’s a soft sight, unexpected in its simplistic beauty. Somehow during the day Raven broke through Clarke’s prickly shield. That’s the only reasons she would be downstairs in the open.

Lexa hangs their coats as they toe off their shoes.

Octavia laces their fingers together pulling Lexa towards the kitchen and Lexa pulls her towards the living room.

“Food.” Octavia whispers, her stomach rumbling. She knows if Clarke is able to sleep things are better, that if she got out of bed and she didn’t hide in her studio all day, forgetting to eat, and hiding from the world, that something shifted today. It’s enough. It’s a tiny ray of hope.

“Shouldn’t we wake them first?”

“Something tells me they both need the sleep.”

Lexa lets herself be pulled toward the kitchen, but not without looking back over her shoulder at her girlfriend and her friend, her heart aching with the need to know how they are, but knowing she just needs to be patient.

“Sit,” Octavia commands.

Lexa barely has a moment be confused before a grinning Octavia pulls out a chair and pushes her towards it, leaning forward for a quick kiss before she slips further into the kitchen.

“Let me take care of things tonight.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke leans against the doorway to the spare room. It’s barely been twelve hours since she stood here, angry and hurting and spoiling for a fight. She’d been holding onto her fear like a shield, not caring how much it hurt anyone else. The hill in front of her feels insurmountable but she won’t have to climb it alone, she keeps reminding herself of that. Beside her are Lexa and Octavia, and her friends if she tells them… and once she can face her again, her mother.

Her knees try to buckle at the thought of having to face her mother and tell her about the damage that had been inflicted. She clings to the wall and tries to recall Raven’s voice, how what happened next was Clarke’s choice, which meant that she gets to take this at her pace.

As long as she keeps moving forward.

“Raven,” Clarke whispers softly. She isn’t sure how Raven hears her, headphones on and engrossed in her laptop as she is.

“Hey.” Raven’s smile is small but bright.

“I just wanted to say thank you.”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve said that to me today,” Raven laughs and it’s warm and wraps around Clarke. “You’re welcome.”

“I mean it. You didn’t have to do any of that.”

Raven pushes her laptop off her lap and onto the bed and slips off the side of the bed nearest Clarke. She makes to move to Clarke, a hand on the wall as she hops, but Clarke rushes to her before she can. Raven rolls her eyes and shakes her head but she’s smiling.

Her arms wrap around Clarke’s shoulders, “Yes I did,” she whispers. She grips Clarke tightly and pulls her closer. 

Clarke returns the desperate hug, wondering how much of her own pain Raven shoved aside to make room for taking care of her that afternoon. She pulls back slightly and searches Raven’s face for a moment as she brushes hair back from it. For all their talking they didn’t discuss the trauma of the night before.

“You let us know if we can do anything, okay?”

Raven shrugs. “I’ll be okay.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes and she takes Raven’s face between her hands and pulls her forehead down to kiss it.

“Don’t get stuck up here.”

“Not a chance,” Raven grins but it’s a mask, genuine, but something she’s hiding behind. “Got to get back on my game again.” She nudges Clarke’s shoulder. “Fell asleep on a couch with a pretty girl and she wasn’t even in my arms. My pride is wounded.”

“Oh please, as if you couldn’t have your pick of people.” Clarke shakes her head, bemused.

“You’re right, no one can withstand the Reyes charm when I turn it up.”

Clarke laughs and begins her retreat out the door, “Goodnight, Raven. Want me to get the light?”

“Yeah.”

Clarke hits the lightswitch.

“And, Clarke?” Raven asks softly.

“Yeah?” Clarke pauses and looks over her shoulder in the dark.

“Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

Clarke pauses in the open doorway to her bedroom. She’s exhausted and wants nothing more to fall into bed and the arms of Lexa and Octavia but she doesn’t want to carry any more of the pain and anger she’s been holding onto to bed with her than she has to. So for a few minutes she watches her girls sleep and just breathes.

They’re curled up, back to back, not quite close enough to touch, but nearby. Octavia is tangled up in the blankets, her head half buried but one leg hooked out and over the top of the comforter. Lexa is gently curled onto her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other crooked and reaching out across the top of the blankets. Opposite sides of the same coin, they both look at peace.

Closing the door softly behind her Clarke pulls off her shorts and drops her flannel to the floor as she crosses to the bed. There’s more room in front of Lexa, but she wants to be between them both, needs to having them both touching her, holding onto her. She needs them close so she can apologize.

There are thousand things she needs to say and do, but it starts with loving them as best she can while she tries to find a way to balance out the turmoil in her head.

She kneels on the end of the bed and crawls her way up between Octavia and Lexa. Turning as she tries to sit on the pillows without disturbing either of them she lifts the covers and begins to shimmy down in between them, making room as she goes. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she hears both of them groan sleepily because moments later they both shift and turn over.

Octavia wraps her arm around Clarke’s stomach and nudges her onto her side until Octavia’s face is pressed between Clarke’s shoulder blades. Clarke wiggles backwards and down into the embrace. Lexa tangles her legs with Clarke’s and she uses Clarke’s arm as a pillow, burying her face into the crook of Clarke’s neck, breath warm against her chest.

Clarke breathes out and with that breath fleeing her lungs she lets the tension eke out of her body. The worry and the fear are there still, the anguish that this is to be her lot in life, stumbling with and fearing her own mind, but she’s cradling the hope that Raven gave her, the reminder that she has people, and maybe there are tools out there to make this all work out. Feeling Octavia and Lexa relax into her Clarke is a bit like she’s come home again.

There’s still a long way to go. Clarke kisses Lexa’s forehead, and squeezes Octavia’s forearm. And at the end of the day she is loved, and she loves, and that will make all the difference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese  
> Ah pelo amor de Deus! - For the love of god
> 
> \---------
> 
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, in case you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome)


	20. Our Past Is Not Our Present part 6 | 10 months ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's response to the last chapter was amazing. Thank you all so much. I promise this one is a lot lighter. The girls are finally healing, finding moments where they're themselves again.
> 
> Portuguese translations at the end.

Raven curls deeper into the oversized chair, her laptop balanced between her thighs. She feels stiff from sitting all day but she needed the day off, and she was loathe to leave the comfort of Lexa and Clarke and Octavia’s house. There’s a half-eaten bowl of leftover  _ feijoada _ on the arm of the chair from lunch hours ago, and the world seems like a far away worry, an unpleasant dream that can’t touch her. 

Everything in that moment is soft and kind, a pulsating warmth. Clarke lays on the couch with her head on Octavia’s lap, face pressed to the crook of her thigh. Earlier she had been sketching but her sketchpad is at her fingertips dropped and forgotten on the ground. Octavia has one earphone in, the other dangling down and she’s frantically mashing buttons on the video game controller. There’s an arrhythmic beat to it. She’s got one foot propped up on the coffee table and the other on the arm of the couch. Lexa sits at the piano noodling through half a memory of a song after another providing a mood to their afternoon.

Any moment now though it’ll be coming to an end because Anya is on her way over to pick Raven up. As much as they all want the magical protective bubble of the weekend to go on forever, it has to end. Raven can’t hide from the things that scare her forever, just like Clarke can’t ignore the way her mind is precariously poised between spiralling out of control and fighting for a chance. Raven sighs and shuts her laptop. Three nights and three days is enough time to put her life on hold for now.

Setting her laptop on it’s edge on the ground she stretches full out, arching off the chair and nearly sliding off the seat. She falls back into it, slouched, with a small  _ thwump _ , and continues her stretch until her back pops so that she feels that small release of pressure at the base of her spine. If only other tensions were so easily dealt with. Raven sits up and reaches for her prosthetic, trying not to think about the ways in which her life has to start changing the moment she walks out the front door.

How she has to go through with pressing charges against Wick, and filing for a restraining order, and getting back in touch with her therapist, and how each of those actions feels like it will take all her willpower and energy to manage. And of course how life has to keep moving on while she does all those things.

Lexa spins on the piano bench and comes to rest straddling it, facing Raven. “Going somewhere?”

“Kitchen,” Raven holds up the half-empty bowl of food, long past cold, as she stands. “Also, Anya should be here soon to collect me.” 

Lexa drums her fingers along the wood of the piano, it’s Sunday night and she gets that Raven needs to go home, they all have work tomorrow, but part of her doesn’t want to see their friend leave. She follows Raven to the kitchen.

“You could stay you know,” Lexa says quietly. Not adding on the thought that if Raven doesn’t feel ready she should absolutely stay.

Raven laughs and shakes her head as she rinses out her dish, “I know, it’s just not the same around here without my wit and my cooking.”

Lexa smirks, leaning against the counter, “It really isn’t.”

“The key is keeping Clarke away from the stove.” Raven brandishes her spoon emphasising each word.

“Hey! I can hear you-” Clarke’s protest is interrupted by a series of short sharp knocks on the front door followed by the sound of a key in the lock and the dooring opening before anyone has the chance to move.

“Look who learned to knock first!” Octavia pauses her game and nudges Clarke out of her lap. There’s a chorus of overlapping hellos.

“Seems someone discovered the lock on their door is functional,” Anya shoots back.

“Yeah, we finally showed her what the little lever does, it took a few tries.” Clarke quips quietly. Octavia shoves her lightly in the shoulder, Clarke grins and tries to look innocent, and fails. Anya raises an eyebrow in their direction but there’s the slightest of smiles on her lips.

“Reyes, you ready to get out of here before we’re subjected to a full on display of affection?” Anya rolls her eyes when Octavia sticks out her tongue. “I don’t know how you survived an entire weekend with the three of them.”

“Yeah, just need to grab my bag from upstairs.”

Raven makes it halfway across the room before Lexa is already coming back down the stairs.

“No need, I got it,” Lexa drops Raven’s bag by the front door.

“How did…” Raven let’s the question trail off and Lexa replies with a wink and a laugh. “Guess that’s my cue then.”

Octavia crosses the room quickly and pulls Raven into a hug, her words pressed quietly to Raven’s ear, “You’re always welcome here, yeah? I’ll call you tomorrow about paperwork about… you know.”

Raven whispers an affirmative and pulls back from the embrace. Clarke catches her eye across the room and they nod at each other, a small strange understanding and solidarity. When she turns to say goodbye to Lexa she practically stumbles into her arms. The last few minutes feel like a whirlwind of something… something bigger than any of them, it’s a sense of belonging and being wanted, of support…  _ home _ . It’s family and love and not being an outsider, and Raven’s forgotten how much comfort that brings.

Anya hefts Raven’s bag onto her shoulder and is out the door before Lexa’s done hugging Raven, who after they part, grabs her crutches and hurries out after her.

“Don’t be a stranger!” Clarke calls out the door, “I haven’t eaten this well in… ever!”

Raven laughs and promises she’ll be back over to cook dinner soon.

The first half of the drive is in silence. Anya turned down the radio like she wanted to talk and then didn’t. Her grip is tight on the steering wheel and Raven can tell that she’s debating. She didn’t tell Anya why she had been at the trio’s house all weekend, and she doubts any of the others had either. Everyone had been so inwardly focused, the four of them just trying to make a bright spot in the middle of the darkness.

They stop at a red light and Anya let’s out an annoyed breath.

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Anya asks softly.

Raven turns her attention back to her jeans and picks at the fraying edge of one of the holes above her knee. She can’t outright lie, but she also doesn’t want to talk about it… she doesn’t want to talk about  _ him _ .

The light turns green and Anya turns onto the street Raven’s apartment is on. They still have several blocks to go.

Raven breathes in sharply and ducks her head.

“I’m driving until you start talking.” Anya threatens. “And I really hate both guessing games and waiting.”

“I know.” Raven sighs and tugs at a loose thread on her jeans. “Remember the ex I said was trying to get back together with me?” She tilts her head to the side and watches Anya not react at all.

“Let me guess, he’s not just an ex who doesn’t understand ‘it’s over’.”

“That obvious?” Raven leans her head against the window and watches the damp grey and green pass by.

Anya grunts and Raven can almost feel the eye roll. Silence settles as Raven struggles for what to say next. With Octavia they were already so far into the narrative it was just a matter of filling in a few details, it  _ had _ to be done. With Clarke she needed other details, harder details. Thinking and talking about Finn hurt more because she still cared, but Wick… the thought of him made her sick to her stomach with fear.

Raven doesn’t say anything until she realizes Anya has stopped the car in front of her apartment complex. Then the words come tumbling out because last time she went in there she had Octavia with her, and she was shaking, and Octavia gathered her things with minimal direction from Raven who couldn’t bring herself to be in her own apartment any longer than absolutely necessary. She doesn’t want to get out of the safety of Anya’s car just yet, so she talks.

“It always starts out good, you know? The falling for someone. Wick talks pretty, and that smile of his could light up a village.” Raven shakes her head. “Something snapped. He became possessive. He thought he was protecting me, because of my leg, because of everyone I’d lost.”

Her fingertips dig into the flesh around her knee as she continues, her other hand taps against her prosthetic. “He used to take my leg, put it out of reach, somewhere ‘safe’, and if I tried to leave he’d hold me down. He’d tell me how he was doing what was best, and if I struggled he’d tighten his grip. I wore long sleeves for months. When I finally got up the courage to move out he didn’t follow. Started thinking I’d made it up, that he wasn’t so bad. Then one day he showed back up, and he kept showing up everywhere for months. Then just as suddenly he stopped. It’s been a year and now he’s back and Thursday night he broke into my apartment-”

Anya slams the flat of her hand against her steering wheel. Raven jumps. She looks to Anya and there are tears running down Anya’s cheeks. Anya makes no move to acknowledge them, doesn’t wipe them away, makes no noise as she cries, but it’s there in the way she isn’t quite breathing, only taking thin, short, shallow breaths, the way her shoulders are set back and rigid,  the way she’s staring straight ahead and pointedly not looking at Raven.

“Sorry,” Anya mutters before opening her door and slamming it behind her again as she gets out.

Raven sits in shock for a moment, Anya doesn’t get emotional, she’s the epitome of always play it cool. When she manages to get herself together and out of the car, Anya already has her things and is waiting for Raven to let them into the building. The only signs that she had been crying are barely smudged eyeliner and blotchy redness, but even that seems somehow subdued.

She opens the door without question, just lets Anya carry her things because she can feel the anger rolling off her friend and she knows it isn’t directed at her. She knows it’s directed at Wick and all the things that had already happened when she and Anya met. Things that were long past over. Things that Raven was working on getting over.

Raven watches as Anya enters her apartment first, drops Raven’s bags by the door and leans her crutches gently against the wall. She motions for Raven to shut the door and wait and Anya moves around the apartment, inspecting windows and making sure they’re locked, and checking each room to make sure it’s empty, that it’s left how it should be. She eyes the dead roses on the kitchen table for a moment before shaking her head softly and snatching them up. Down into the trash they go, the vase rinsed and washed and set to dry.

Raven hasn’t moved from just inside the doorway when Anya turns back to her.

The look on her face, a mixture of sadness and fierceness, is one Raven has never seen on Anya’s face. And then Anya does something Raven never expected. She hugs her.

Maybe after the tears she should have expected it.

It’s a slow embrace, Anya’s long arms folding around Raven as she steps close. Heartbeats thudding in contrast with the tenderness of being held. A few moments pass before Raven returns the hug, long enough that Anya’s almost let her go when Raven finally wraps her arms tightly around the other woman. She lays her cheek against Anya’s shoulder and loses track of how long they stand there like that. This is going to be one of those moments they don’t bring up again, like that moment in the car a few months ago when Raven nearly broke down over Wick turning back up.

She can feel her blood run cold at the thought, even though he’s in jail and she would be safe tonight.

Anya pulls back and runs her fingers through Raven’s hair before letting her go completely.

“Do you have a clean spare set of sheets?”

“Hall closet… why?”

“You’re taking a shower and then climbing into a clean bed and getting a proper night’s sleep.”

“Taking care of me now, are you?” Raven teases.

“Yes.” Anya says decisively and moves to the kitchen and pulls down two glasses, filling them both with water from the tap. She hands one to Raven.

It’s comforting. Even Anya’s brusque nature is soothing in its familiarity. It’s normal, like they come home together and hang out in Raven’s apartment all the time - which isn’t true, most of the time Raven is drooling over Anya’s view of the Portland skyline, but Anya moves through the little space like she’s been there a hundred times. First finding the right hall closet, and the sheets, and then disappearing into Raven’s bedroom without even asking.

“I don’t hear the shower!” Anya yells after a few minutes.

Raven laughs and pushes off the counter to make her way to the bathroom after grabbing a change of clothes from her room. The shower itself is hot and quick but she steps out clean and refreshed and bone weary all at once. All she can think is that a newly made bed is waiting for her and Anya probably even fluffed the pillows.

She cracks the door open and welcomes the rush of cold air that meets her in the hallway as she reaches for her crutches. It’s only then that she realizes Anya has only rarely seen her in shorts, and never without her prosthetic. Fear grips at the bottom of her stomach, the way it does every time someone new sees her like this. Like she’s laid bare, more exposed than if she were naked. She hates the look that people get sometimes, and she hates that she fears her closest friends will have it.

Anya pokes her head into the hallway, still in Raven’s bedroom. Raven braces for a reaction, but Anya’s already giving her a look that has nothing to do with Raven’s leg.

“My dress is going to wrinkle if I sleep in it.” Anya nearly pouts.

Raven bursts out laughing and it feels good. It feels real and unbridled. Mirth and joy wrapping around her like the tendrils of warm air from the bathroom. She crutches into her room, trying to swallow down laughter as Anya glares, not questioning that she’s decided to stay the night.

“I’m serious, this is expensive silk.”

“What, not up for sleeping next to me in the nude? Don’t think I can keep my hands to myself?” Raven winks.

“You wish, Reyes.” She stalks across the room and Raven tosses a pair of loose shorts and t-shirt at Anya’s face, stopping her in her tracks. Anya catches the garments and leans closer to Raven as she unzips the back of her dress and lets it fall to the floor.

Raven’s gaze darts down before she can stop herself. She licks her lips and curses how incredibly gay she is because Anya is her friend and there’s no way they’re going there.

“Now that we’ve officially determined I’m your type...” Anya winks and taps her finger against the bottom of Raven’s chin, closing her mouth which had fallen open. She turns and walks out of the room slowly, heading for the bathroom. “Hang that up will you?” Anya calls over her shoulder. “I don’t want that dress ruined.”

Raven snatches up the dress, grasping for a retort. “It’s hardly fair when we determined that you’re  _ everyone’s _ type, Anya.” She yells at the empty space in the doorway where Anya had been. Raven rolls her eyes at herself, and laughs because Anya did exactly what she was trying to do, exactly what Raven needed. She distracted Raven long enough that she could feel something other than miserable fear for just a few moments.

There’s laughter and then the shower starts up. Raven leaves on the bedside lamp and turns down the bed before crawling into it. The clean sheets smell soft and sweet like laundry detergent and there’s a warmth to the bed that only comes when it’s freshly made. Raven curls onto her side and breathes out.

The weight of the weekend, the good and the bad, feels like it’s trying to run through her. She lets it, alone in her room, safe behind locked doors, in the dim half light, she lits it. Tears drip down her nose and she doesn’t move to stop them. Doesn’t try to hide them as much later Anya slips into the double bed next to her. They press to the outside edges, giving each other space.

Raven knows the hug earlier was an anomaly. Anya isn’t often physical with her affection of anyone but Lexa, and those two have a bond that no one can come close to. So she doesn’t seek out comfort, not expecting it, knowing that this is Anya’s way of caring for her. It’s sloppy and lopsided and filled with innuendo, but it’s genuine and it makes her feel less alone.

This whole weekend has given her hope that she can build up her own family… and maybe in the process find herself again. The small voice at the back of her head reminds her that if she finds herself again maybe she can go home, that maybe going home wouldn’t be the worst thing, but maybe the best thing.

When she feels Anya shift and roll over, she doesn’t expect to feel the small warm touch of Anya’s pinky finger linking around hers in the middle of the bed. Part of her wants to laugh because it’s probably the most ridiculous thing Anya has ever done, but then she hears Anya sniffle, and her heart melts, because this is Anya trying to be there as best she can for Raven, knowing that Raven would want to be held, but not being the one to be able to do that yet.

Raven flexes her pinky finger, squeezing Anya’s and settles in so her shoulder isn’t at a strange angle. The last thing she remembers before she falls asleep is Anya returning the gesture.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s early when Raven wakes. The first thing she notices is the length of Anya’s forearm against her back, and a knee pressed to the back of her calf; they’ve both migrated toward the center of the bed in their sleep, seeking out warmth, or comfort, or just both used to being able to take up space as they slept. Raven turns over, careful not to disturb Anya and watches her friend for a moment, the softness of her face in the morning light, undisturbed by plans or people or anything quotidien.

Raven files the memory away, knowing better that to ever bring it up unless absolutely needed.

She slips out of bed, pockets her phone, and makes her way to the living room. For the first time in a long while she feels light. The going is still uphill, but it doesn’t seem insurmountable. Still, her fingers shake as she scrolls through her contact list and places the call.

When the line starts to ring she nearly cancels the call and shuts her phone off, but she remembers Anya’s pinky linking around hers, the way Octavia hugged her, Lexa laughing and leaning against the kitchen counter asking her to stay, Clarke trusting her… and there are the others too, the rest of their circle of friends. 

Her heart jumps with each ring.

She isn’t ready for this but Raven’s never really been much about waiting around for things to happen or coming around when everything is good and set. She’s much more about ripping off the bandaid and getting to the heart of the matter.

Raven stops breathing when she hears the line pick up.

“ _ Minha menina. É você mesmo? _ ”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke folds and unfolds the little slip of paper, a list of names and phone numbers that Lexa had helped her find. Therapists. It feels like her fate is written on that paper and she doesn’t quite know what that means anymore. She flattens it out on the desk, pressing the seams backwards so it lays flush once more.

Opening up the call app on her phone she punches in the first number and sets her phone back down.

She grabs a notepad and a pen and sketches out a script. It’s just five voicemails she has to leave, but there’s something in having the little checklist, it’s not in her head anymore, she won’t get distracted and nervous and forget. Five potential therapists.

It’s been almost a week since Raven spent the weekend with them and Clarke hit rock bottom, and while in ways she feels better simply because she finds she does still care enough that she’s not doing well and she wants it to change, she isn’t better yet. There’s still a long climb to stable and happy even when she has moments where she laughs and feels like herself. Those moments are still far outshadowed by the darkness and depression.

Taking a deep breath she makes herself breathe out before hitting call.

Five voicemails later and she’s ready to crawl under her desk but she’s done. She texts Lexa and Octavia to let them know in the group chat and then shoots off another text to Raven thanking her again and letting her know. Now she waits to see who calls her back and she takes the next step. Nothing to worry about until then.

She hears the front door to the gallery open and Clarke crumples the list of therapists in her hand. She’s tossed it into the waste basket before she’s realized it’s her mom who came in.

“I thought we were meeting at the bakery for lunch?” Abby leans on the opposite side of the desk from Clarke. There’s worry in her eyes that Clarke doesn’t want to acknowledge because she knows she’s been stumbling through life and out of it for a while now, and she isn’t quite sure how to tell her mother she’s made the decision to try the one thing that drove a rift between them again.

Clarke flips over her phone and curses at the time. “I’m sorry, I was making phone calls and lost track of time… Do you still have time to go now?”

“Of course.” Abby reaches across the desk and grabs one of Clarke’s hands. She squeezes it briefly and Clarke has trouble meeting her gaze. ”Is everything okay?”

Clarke breathes in and weighs her options, does she tell her mother, or does she keep this to herself? She offers Abby a tight lipped smile. Raven’s words come back to her, that this is her life and she has final say in what her treatment looks like. Clarke breathes out, she isn’t ready yet for her mom to know, doesn’t want to have to keep her from taking over therapy decisions while she’s still struggling to find even footing.

She has her girls though, and she has her friends that she can trust, and for the first time she feels like she might have the power to really make this cycle tell a different story.

“Yeah, everything’s going to be okay.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia massages her shoulder and knows in the morning it will be bruised. When she and Raven left that night for tacos and a few drinks she didn’t expect to end up sitting in the corner booth at The Trading Post pressing a leaking bag of ice to her shoulder, head spinning, and trying to ignore the way Niylah is glaring down at her.

Tonight was supposed to be about getting away from the intensity of the past several weeks. Between dealing with Wick’s trial and trying to help Clarke find level ground again everyone’s emotions had been running high and patience was starting to wear thin. Lexa had gone out with Anya the night before so tonight had been Octavia’s turn and she’d grabbed Raven and laid out a no-questions-asked plan. 

She’s drunk, and she’s fairly certain Lexa is going to serve her an even more disapproving look when she finds out what happened. Of course she’s barely in any kind of shape to walk back to Raven’s to get her motorcycle, let alone ride home. Raven’s barely any better, from what Octavia can tell, as her friend leans heavily against the wall, trying to keep out of Niylah’s warpath.

“You’ve really got to stop breaking up bar fights when you’re drunk, Octavia. One, Clarke is going to kill me if I keep letting you get injured. And two, let the on duty cops you could have here in a few minutes take care of it… please? I kind of like having you around as a friend.”

Octavia winces and rolls her shoulder, “They were breaking things,” she mumbles, words blurring together, not quite slurred but not quite clear. “And it’s not okay.”

“At least you didn’t scream that you were a cop this time,” Raven says. There’s a pause and then she starts giggling to herself having imagined Octavia being hoisted up while protesting that she was the law.

“Yeah, that one doesn’t do much good unless she’s got Lincoln to back her up, or her badge.” Niylah prods Raven with the end of the broom handle trying to find solidarity. “Of which neither are here tonight.”

“Right,” Raven agrees solemnly. “No more bar fights when you’re drunk, Octavia.”

“How about no more breaking up bar fights period?”

“I didn’t start it… I never start it…”

Niylah sighs and kneels down in front of Octavia. Raven glances at her phone. It’s not yet 11 and the few others that are still in the bar came in after the fight. It’s been a hell of a night.

Octavia focuses on Niylah and sets the bag of ice aside on the table. Niylah’s wearing that look she gets when she’s worried. The one that looks like she’s trying to suss the other person out. She doesn’t want that look pointed at her right now, there’s too much she can’t explain, and she hates not being able to talk to her friends.

“O, what’s going on? Clarke hasn’t been out in a month and you’re getting in dangerous situations again.” Nilyah squeezes one of Octavia’s hands.

They’ve been friends for too long now to deny the truth that things like this only tend to happen when Octavia is struggling. She only takes risks she shouldn’t when she feels out of control, the decision to act is her drug, the adrenaline the only thing that clears her head. This isn’t the first time she’s lost her rationale when it comes to her own safety.

“Clarke’s just going through a rough patch.” Octavia leans her head against the back of the booth and looks down at Niylah and holds down all the words she can’t say, about Lexa and about how tiring it is being scared of losing someone.

“Yeah, I know. But you’re okay?” Niylah chews her lip. “I know it’s not my place,” she glances to Raven briefly. “This isn’t just you and Clarke against the world anymore.” Ruffling Octavia’s hair Niylah stands back up.

Octavia watches her thinking about how it had been… how it had felt back in the day. Octavia protecting Clarke from herself while Clarke made sure Octavia always had a place beside her.

“I think I might close down early. Can you get her home?” Niylah glances to Raven.

“We can stumble back to my place.” Raven tugs Octavia to standing and wraps an arm around her waist. They sway slightly and Raven thinks that she might not have been exaggerating when she said stumble. Between the two of them they’re a mess tonight. The last few round of shots before everything went to hell were probably a mistake, but in the moment it had seemed like a great idea.

“Text me when you get there.” Niylah asks as she starts to move around the bar to tell everyone she’s closing up early.

Raven steers them out of the bar. The night air is cold, winter already starting to set in. Neither of them is dressed for the cool night air, as when they left earlier it was still sunny and warm and the breeze heavy against their skin. For the first few blocks there are other people, people laughing and stumbling between bars, the night is alive with them. The closer they get to Raven’s the quieter the streets get, business giving way to houses and apartment complexes.

A swipe of a card gets them inside the lobby then it’s an elevator ride to the sixth floor. Raven keys open her door and deposits them and her things inside. Octavia to the couch. Glasses of water. Leftovers in the microwave for a midnight snack. A quick text to Niylah to tell her they made it. 

Raven collapses on the couch next to Octavia.

“You should call your girls so they know you’re crashing here tonight.” Raven pats the couch between them.

Octavia flops back against the couch, “Lexa is going to kill me when she finds out about the bar fight.”

“Not as much as she will if you don’t let her know you’re staying here tonight.” 

The microwave beeps and Raven retrieves the bowl of leftovers and two forks before she finishes her thought.

“And maybe work on not getting in situations that are going to get you in trouble.” Raven tilts her head and gestures with her fork to Octavia before taking a bite. “Not that it’s my business, but things might be a bit smoother, you know.”

Octavia groans and slides along the back of the couch until she’s looking up at Raven. Nearly smacking Raven in the face she holds up her phone, offering it up, “Will you call Lexa?”

“Nope, that’s all on you.” Raven laughs. Octavia whines and the phone slips out of her hand, smacking her in the face, which makes Raven laugh harder.

“I see how it is…” Octavia mumbles, rubbing her forehead ruefully, but she sits up and pulls up the app to call Lexa. First step, alert girlfriends to the plan, second step eat something before Raven inhales everything, third step, pass out and hope her shoulder is as purple as it feels in the morning.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke sets down her paintbrush and stretches her arms high overhead, her spine cracking and muscles protesting. She's been hunched over at her easel since she got home from her therapy appointment hours ago: meeting number two with therapist number two, which is more time than she gave therapist number one. This one is at least different, she’s younger, tattooed, she didn’t give Clarke  _ the look _ when she said she was dating and living with two women. She's fighting herself to be open minded. 

The efficiency of her efforts had yet to be realized. 

Still, there's hope for progress. Even just wanting to try has pushed her up the hill and allowed her to hold steady, even if she still has a long climb. 

Twisting her back she steps down off her stool and tries to work out the kinks in the muscle trying to pull bone out of line. It's a delicate dance trying to work the muscle until it relaxes, not unlike her mind. The more she tries to think her way out the more it twists on her and slips out of control. 

She washes the paint off her hands and forearms and changes into a clean tank top and a pair of running shorts, not that she ever uses them for running. Lexa is downstairs and she always complains when Clarke manages to get paint on the furniture. 

When her head is jumbled and fuzzy she tends to leave streaks of paint, and drying flakes of color wherever she goes. So she's trying to be cognizant, trying to do the things that she would do automatically if she were in an upswing. 

Sometimes it makes her feel better, sometimes worse, she hasn’t yet figured out which way it’ll go.

Lexa is right where Clarke expects to find her, curled into the corner of the couch, glasses perched on her nose, book resting against her knees. Her tongue pokes out of the corner of her mouth, and it’s possibly the most adorable thing Clarke has seen all day. She doesn’t stop reading until after Clarke has leaned against the back of the couch, waiting to be acknowledged, clearly coming to a stopping point, at the very least the end of a paragraph.

“Hey,” Lexa says softly, looking up.

Clarke mirrors her greeting and reaches out for Lexa’s hand, twining their fingers. “What time is it?”

“Just past midnight. O called a little while ago, she’s going to crash on Raven’s couch.”

“Drunk?”

Lexa laughs, “Just a little bit.”

“Guess that means I get you to myself tonight,” Clarke bites back a grin and kisses the back of Lexa’s hand. This hadn’t been her plan when she came downstairs, but the words, the flirting, feels right. She hasn’t felt the inclination to even flirt in too long, opting even to sleep in the guest bed when it was clear that Octavia and Lexa both wanted to have sex.

Lexa raises an eyebrow, and Clarke knows that look. It’s curiosity and hope and all the things that Lexa will never say because she doesn’t want to push. Clarke leans over the back of the couch and kisses Lexa.

It’s gentle but firm and asking for more. She wishes Octavia was home, because right now she’s feeling like herself and she doesn’t know how long it will last. She doesn’t want Octavia to miss this bit of good, this bit of feeling right and belonging. Part of her just wants to kiss Octavia again. Clarke starts to slide over the back of the couch without breaking the kiss.

Lexa pulls back just far enough to look Clarke in the eyes, “Are you sure… I don’t want you to feel like we have to…” Even that one kiss has her breath uneven.

“Don’t stop.” 

Clarke tumbles into Lexa’s lap, her book and place in it lost as it hits the ground, her hands filled with her girlfriend instead of paper. And Clarke is pressing them down into the couch, and kissing Lexa, and she hopes that there are more days like this. More days where she can do things, where she wants to  _ live _ .

More days where she feels like this life they’re building might just be home.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven groans as she wakes up. She knows on instinct it isn’t morning yet, but her head is heavy with not enough sleep and too much alcohol the night before. Reaching for the ibuprofen and water on her nightstand she downs them. The clock stares steadily at her in the dark, bright green numbers telling her it’s sometime past three a.m.. 

That’s when she hears it, the quiet shuddering breath and shaky exhalation of someone trying not to make noise as they cry. It takes her a moment to remember Octavia is in her living room. Everything had seemed fine when they’d started passing out and Raven had stumbled sleepily to her room which meant Raven found herself crawling out of the warm cocoon of her bed and unsteadily crutching the short distance to the couch.

Octavia is pressed into the seam of the couch, face buried against the back, knees curled up, hands over her ears. She’s nearly lost under the blanket.

“Hey, O?” Raven reaches out and gently squeezes Octavia’s arm trying to get her attention without startling her.

“I’m fine,” comes the muffled, watery reply.

“You’ve got a strange definition of fine.”

“It’s  _ stupid _ ,” Octavia slurs.

Raven sits heavily on the floor, still tipsy herself, her back against the couch. “You’re crying, that’s not stupid.”

Octavia sits up rapidly, swinging her feet off the couch, her shin touching Raven’s shoulder. She leans over onto her knees as the world spins. “I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What’s it?”

“My shoulder.”

“Is it still hurting?”

“No, it’s…” Octavia sniffles and she hates that she can’t just let this go because tonight was supposed to be a relaxing night, just her and Raven hanging out and nothing to worry about. But after everything, the stress of keeping her relationship quiet, and Clarke falling into a deep depression, all the parts of her life that have ever not been alright are circling around in her head, and being hit in the shoulder pulled up memories better left forgotten.

Raven leans her head against Octavia’s leg and wraps her hand around the other girl’s calf, massaging it gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it.”

Octavia almost takes her up on the offer to stay silent, but the memory is there just beneath the surface of her skin trying to crawl out. She doesn’t know how long they sit there, if it’s only a few seconds or if a handful of minutes pass, but slowly she finds a way to let the words out, carefully talking around to get to the point so she doesn’t choke on it.

“When I was twelve I broke my collarbone.” Technically true. Not the whole truth. “It sucked, the cast was terrible, and it was during the school year, and middle schoolers are mean.”

“Yeah, little hormonal shits. We all were.” Raven murmurs softly.

“Bellamy wasn’t home that night, and for some reason or another I wasn’t at Clarke’s. It was just me and my mom and her boyfriend. God he was an ass.” Octavia sucks in a breath and runs her fingers through her hair before gripping it tight up near her scalp, fingernails scraping skin. “Bell wasn’t there and the boyfriend was drunk and probably high and he was screaming at mom, shoving her around. Usually Bell would break it up, kick him out for the night. I mean he was grown up by then, just as big as the guy. But it was just me and he hit her and so I stepped in and started doing what Bell would do. But I was twelve, and  _ tiny _ .” Octavia’s voice wavers.

Raven turns and presses her face to the side of Octavia’s leg, just holding on to let her friend know she is there.

“He threw me. I know I hit the wall and then I remember pain and the bright lights of the emergency room and it was morning.” Octavia sits up and shrugs with a wince. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about it after I got hit tonight.”

Raven shifts to sit on her knee and leans against Octavia for balance. She reaches out and traces the thin white scar beneath Octavia’s left collarbone. “Is this from that night?”

“No,” Octavia shakes her head and almost laughs. “That’s from a bar fight  _ last year _ .”

“Niylah’s right, no more breaking up bar fights for you.” Raven traces the scar with her fingertips. She’s closer than she should be, almost half in Octavia’s lap, but it’s comfortable, comforting, and the closer she moves the more Octavia’s breathing evens out, the calmer she seems. 

Neither moves, breathing in and out and holding the truth of the story inside them. They breath out the pain of recollection, the trauma of reliving the memory and wanting to do anything to keep it from happening again. 

Raven feels it resonate with her, more than she has words for in her current state, head still thick with their night of drinking. 

Octavia’s voice is nearly swallowed in the darkness, “I’m afraid I’m going to become her. What if all I’m good for is a drunken brawl? What if I can’t protect anyone.”

“They’re safe, Octavia. You’re strong, and they’re safe. And the only person you will ever be is you.” 

Raven wraps her arms around Octavia’s waist, and rest her head on Octavia’s lap.

Oh how she’s missed this intimacy, being able to touch someone and not feeling fear. Raven swallows down the burst of emotion because anything more than this is somewhere she can’t go, not with anyone she trusts, not Octavia, or Clarke, or Lexa… even Anya is off that list because what they need from each other doesn’t mesh.

Raven starts to pull away, knowing if she doesn’t now she won’t be able to later, and that they both need to sleep this off before they’re in too deep.

“Don’t…” Octavia whispers, and she lays back down on the couch tugging Raven with her. “I… I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Trembling, Raven crawls onto the couch and settles down against Octavia. They’re pressed close together, Octavia’s arms wrapped around Raven, Raven’s head resting against her sternum. Raven carefully wraps her arm around Octavia’s waist and tries to breathe around the knot of tension in her throat. She tries not to think about how the last time she held anyone, the last time anyone held her, was when she was with Wick still.

She wants more, now that she’s had this touch of closeness her skin is begging for another touch like a sun parched desert when the first rain starts to fall the ground remembering what moisture feels like, still somehow dry, but yearning now. She presses her ear to Octavia’s chest, listens to the steady  _ thump thump _ of her heart, and closes her eyes.

“Do you ever just feel like your mouth is hollow?” Raven asks, she can still feel the alcohol in her veins, her head heavy and unattached all at once.

“Isn’t that kind of what it’s supposed to be?” Octavia snuggles down into the couch and nudges Raven back so they can look at each other across the dark, the living room only it by the city lights outside.

“I mean,” Raven turns onto her back, precarious on the edge of the couch and presses her hands together like she’ll find the words if she applies just the right pressure. “That like, there’s this hollow ache where someone’s name should sit, or the taste of their kiss. You’re aching for someone but you don’t know who yet.” She glances up at Octavia.

Octavia raises an eyebrow. 

Raven shakes her head sadly and she can feel the start of the hiccuping sob that threatens to erupt, bursting through the hollow ache in her mouth where it feels like she’ll never taste love again. She reaches out for Octavia’s hand and squeezes it. “Of course you don’t, you have your girls.” The alcohol makes her words bitter and she can feel Octavia wince. How is it that they can find solace in their trio, but she can’t even find find one person to love her. No one since Finn… and Finn hadn’t loved her like she needed to be loved, even if he was everything she had. Raven doesn’t take back her words or the harsh tone but she holds onto Octavia’s hand wondering if someday the luck in love that Octavia and Clarke and Lexa have will rub off on her if she can just hold on long enough.

Octavia pulls Raven close again, head pressed to her chest and Raven settles back down to listen to her friend’s heartbeat. They’re just this side of drunk and raw and open and hurting and scared of what their futures might hold, but they aren’t alone. At least they aren’t alone.

##  _______________________________________

  
  


Octavia wakes up, a faceful of brown hair that is too light to be hers, and a weight on her chest. Her right arm is numb and she can already feel the crick in her neck even though she can’t move. Raven’s arm is wrapped protectively around her waist, fingers curled around the edge of Octavia’s shirt thumb brushed against the skin of the small of her back. Raven’s leg is hooked over Octavia’s, whether from trying to keep to fall off or a desire to be close Octavia isn’t certain. She smiles and brushes Raven’s hair out of her face, running her fingers through the wavy locks.

She’s glad Raven stayed with her last night, this morning her head is clearer and lighter, and she doesn’t feel as heavy with fear and aching as she did the night before. She’ll never take for granted the ease of friendship she finds with Raven, the way they just seem to understand each other sometimes, even when things get prickly. They’ve learned how to fall into step beside each other.

Raven stirs and presses her face to Octavia’s chest. Her whole body aches but she doesn’t want to get up, doesn’t want to not be held. There’s something in the way Octavia held her that made her want this, not just being held, but  _ Octavia _ holding her. She wants it to be someone she trusts this much.

“My arm is dead,” Octavia mutters sleepily against Raven’s forehead.

Raven presses up to a sitting position, her back protesting, and she tries not to make much of the fact that their legs had been entwined. “Sorry.”

“Oh fuck it’s cold.” Octavia’s eyes snap open and she looks up at Raven, sleep lines on her cheek and eyes half lidded. She reaches up to pull Raven back down.

Raven shakes her head, “You should sit up and unpinch the nerve. How’s the other shoulder?”

“It’s sore but okay.” Octavia tries to sit up, but without the arm that’s underneath her it’s hard. “Help?” she asks.

Raven laughs and helps Octavia upright.

“Are we…” Raven gestures toward the couch where their cocoon of blankets and pillows is still intact around them. “All good?”

Octavia glances around and it takes her a moment in her just woken up state. “Yeah. I mean friends cuddle.” She shrugs and gasps as feeling starts to return to her arm, cold, painful pins and needles. This is always the worst part of cuddling on a couch all night… which she hasn’t done in a long time, usually she makes Clarke hold her and end up with the numb arm. “You?”

“Yeah,” Raven can’t help herself from smiling, almost laughing to herself. “Friends can cuddle. You want breakfast?”

“Pancakes?” Octavia asks excitedly, massaging her arm.

“Pancakes it is.”

Raven resists the urge to lean over and kiss Octavia’s cheek as she grabs her crutches and stands up. She shakes her head, trying to throw the impulse out and wondering where it came from. Friends can cuddle, but kissing is something else entirely.

##  _______________________________________

  
  


Bright noonday sun is shining in through the window by the time Lexa wakes up. She and Clarke had stayed up talking most of the night, dozing here and there, but waking to watch the sunrise before drifting back to sleep. Clarke is currently drooling on Lexa’s shoulder, one arm slung low across Lexa’s waist, blonde hair a wild nest obscuring her face. It’s endearing and cute and giving Lexa a numb arm. From her shoulder all the way down to her fingertips feels like dead weight.

Lexa contemplates her options, wake Clarke up, which is probably not the brightest idea, or try to either shimmy out from underneath her without waking her up, or move her further onto Lexa’s torso and less on her shoulder… all with one dead arm. In short, she’s trapped. She brushes her free hand through Clarke’s hair and away from her face, and decides that she’ll deal with a pinched nerve for a while longer if it means Clarke gets to sleep peacefully. Too much time has passed since Lexa’s seen her this relaxed, even asleep.

She reaches for her phone, hooking her finger around the charging cord, and tugging it across the shelf that makes up the headboard toward her. With a flick of her fingers she unhooks it and lets it drop onto the pillows so she can retrieve it.

Clarke still hasn’t woken.

Surprisingly, despite a night of drinking, Octavia has, and she’s already texted several times. The most recent of which is simply

_ Octavia 11:47am : _ you better not be ignoring me because of morning sex… omw home

_ Lexa 12:09pm : _ c is asleep on arm which is numb D:

Lexa thumbs through her emails, and checks instagram before depositing her phone back on the headboard. She’s drifting off again when she hears movement downstairs, then quiet footsteps on the stairs, which is most unlike Octavia. The bedroom door is opened slowly.

“She still…” Octavia whispers as she nods toward Clarke.

“Yeah, didn’t really have the heart to wake her.” Lexa presses a kiss to the top of Clarke’s head and tucks a curl behind her ear. “Have fun last night?”

Octavia takes a sip of water from one of the glasses she’s holding and pads across the bedroom to offer the other to Lexa. “I think Raven and I both needed it. Maybe could have done without breaking up a bar fight though.”

Lexa’s eyes widen and the only thing that keeps her from sitting up checking Octavia over is Clarke, still drooling against her chest. At least Clarke has moved enough that there’s now pain shooting through her arm, ice cold pins and needles. Lexa narrows her eyes, she’s annoyed at the reckless behavior, but she’s also worried. “Why didn’t you say anything last night?”

Setting her water down, Octavia leans over the bed to press a kiss to Lexa’s cheek. “I didn’t want you to be worried all night. I wanted to be able to show you that I’m okay.”

Octavia slips off the bed, hurriedly unbuttoning her pants, tugging them off before she pulls her tanktop and hoodie over her head in one smooth motion.

“Your definition of okay is a little skewed, Octavia,” Lexa frowns.

Her shoulder is mottled purple and green.

“It’s all superficial,” Octavia crawls onto the bed, kneeling in front of Lexa, and rotates her shoulder. “See, no loss in range of motion.”

Lexa reaches out and brushes her fingertips along the mottled flesh, “Still…” she hooks her index finger around Octavia’s bra strap and tugs her close enough to kiss. It’s a hard press of lips, worry and relief spilling out at once quickly turning to lips parted, teeth grazing, need.

Octavia steadies herself one hand on the pillow next to Lexa’s head, the other just above Clarke’s shoulder. She’s holding herself up, trying not to disturb their still sleeping girlfriend, so she shifts, closer, her knee lands between Lexa’s legs, pressing the blankets up and between. Lexa wriggles beneath her, trying not to arch up, trying to stay as still as she can as to not wake Clarke.

The kiss, starting soft and pliant turns firmer, needy. Their body’s aching to come together. It’s hard to be still, to pour all their energy into just the kiss, lips and teeth and tongue, yet keep their bodies in check. The past few months have been difficult and there have been few times they’ve felt the comfort of release, even just Octavia and Lexa alone together. Even sharing a bed each night they’ve all been missing each other.

Lexa reaches up her free hand to tangle in Octavia’s hair, drawing a moan from her lips, and she knows they’ll have to stop soon either altogether or find a way to extract Lexa from Clarke’s grasp so they can move to the spare room. Neither make a move to stop though. It’s been too long

Clarke shifts, pressing her face to Lexa’s chest, and stretching.

Octavia pulls back, breaking the kiss, but doesn’t move further, instead hovering over both her girls. She watches Clarke roll over, cracking open one eye to look up at them, looking altogether amused and annoyed all at once.

“You were going to wake me up for this right?” Her voice is raspy and low with sleep.

Octavia quirks an eyebrow, “Complaining?”

“Not if you let me join.” Clarke bites her lip.

Lexa scratches her nails lightly down Clarke’s back until her palm is cupped around the other girl’s ass. She gives it a squeeze, already scooting down on the bed and nudging Clarke’s chin with her nose so she can kiss at her neck. Octavia takes that as her queue to move over to kiss Clarke.

“As if we’d leave you out.” Lexa licks along Clarke’s neck already feeling a building heat between her legs. The night before they’d decided to wait for Octavia and Lexa is aching with want.

“O! Your shoulder!”

Lexa heaves out a sigh and drops her forehead to Clarke’s shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Octavia says firmly. “I’ll tell you what happened later, right now we have…” Her descent into the kiss is too slow and Clarke is pushing her upright gently, alert, worry furrowed between her brows.

“Clarke, babe, darling,” Octavia glances down as the blanket pools around Clarke’s waist, noticing that neither Lexa nor Clarke are wearing anything. She licks her lips and has to tear her gaze away to look Clarke in the eye again, “I promise I’m fine, can we please talk about it later?” She can already feel desire pooling low in her belly. “Right now I just want to be here with you and Lexa.”

“Please, let’s just be together?” Lexa kisses Clarke’s shoulder.

“Are you sure…” Clarke’s voice trails off, her thumb brushing over the bruise.

“Look,” Octavia says softly as she demonstrates the range of motion again. Clarke gives her a small nod and Octavia presses her back into the pillows, tugging the sheets away from them so she can touch skin to skin.

Limbs tangle together, skin caressed and kissed, gently bitten and soothed with an open mouth kiss. Fingers search out tender spots, teasing out moans, and sending shivers across their skin. Their need for each other growing as hands slip across breasts, reach between legs.

Lexa unclasps Octavia’s bra and kisses down her spine. Clarke strips her of her underwear.

They’ve learned this dance well, trading kisses and touches, making sure that everyone is included. Learned to go with the awkward moments where they don’t quite sync up, and most importantly laugh when it’s warranted. It’s safe when it’s just them, whether they’re desperate to fuck, or slowly, gently exploring all the ways to say  _ I love you _ with a touch.

This morning is slow. So slow and tender that they lose themselves in breathing each other in.

Clarke arches her back, one hand scratching along Lexa’s, the other hand palming Octavia’s breast as she kisses Clarke’s neck. Her hand slips lower, across Octavia’s abdomen, reaching for the tidy crop of curls at the apex of her thighs. She finds her wet and warm. Octavia nips at her neck as Clarke’s finger circles her clit. Lexa captures Clarke’s nipple in her mouth.

The touch doesn’t last long, Octavia whimpers and shimmies out of Clarke’s reach. She glances over to Lexa and they share a look, just a moment, a silent agreement. This morning is first about Clarke and loving her and celebrating her continued strength. Octavia leans over, kissing along Clarke’s stomach until she reaches Lexa. 

Octavia and Lexa turn to Clarke, want etched on their faces.

“Let us take care of you first,” Octavia whispers as she dips her head down, running teeth and tongue against Clarke’s collarbone.

“I want-” 

Lexa quiets her with a finger against her lips.

“We’ve got all day,” she whispers.

Clarke’s eyes darken at the promise, want and desire twisting inside her. She takes Lexa’s finger gently between her teeth before sucking it into her mouth, their eyes locked. Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. Slowly she pulls the digit from between Clarke’s lips with a pop.

Octavia’s attention has turned to Clarke’s breasts, her tongue pressed flat against a taut nipple as she massages the other breast. She’s missed this, the intimacy, the knowing how to make her partners feel good and the pleasure that gives her. She misses the trust involved, giving herself completely as they lose themselves in pleasure.

Sheets twist in Clarke’s hands as she grips them, and she lets her head fall back in ecstasy. She hasn’t wanted like this in months, hasn’t felt the fire crawling along her skin. Her mind is on that edge of blank, wanting to engage, to give back even a small portion of what she is feeling, but blissed out beyond being able to.

Lexa tips Octavia’s chin up to steal a sloppy kiss before she makes her way down Clarke’s torso, pressing her lips to each inch, following the patterns her fingertips draw. Loving and memorizing the landscape of her girlfriend. She takes her time nestling down between Clarke’s legs and by the time she does Clarke is whimpering and writhing beneath her, ready to come undone at the slightest touch.

It’s been a while and Clarke isn’t sure if she wants to hold out or lose herself completely to the pleasure. Octavia’s kisses are languid, and her hands running slowly over her skin, cupping her jaw, tweaking a nipple, fingernails leaving faint red trails in their wake. And Clarke’s falling into the best kind of oblivion.

Her skin is a live wire, and she can’t keep her eyes open, too overwhelmed by touch to process sight. Lexa parts her folds with her tongue and Clarke’s hips jump up to meet the touch. She’s panting softly, mewling, begging, but still, holding back, not wanting this to end.

Octavia’s breath is hot on Clarke’s ear, “Let go.” She sucks the lobe into her mouth, teeth grazing across it and watches Clarke’s eyes roll back in her head. “You think we’re stopping with one?”

Clarke’s eyes flutter open, her hand coming up to wrap around the inside of Octavia’s thigh. She’s teetering on that edge. Lexa curls two fingers inside Clarke as she sucks at her clit, relishing in the taste and knowing that she’s got Clarke on the edge of orgasming. Already Clarke’s legs and trembling with the strain of it. Her mewling moans are desperate and breathy.

Lexa swipes her tongue across her center once more and Clarke is crumbling, shaking, forgetting to breath, as the wave of pleasure hits her. Octavia kisses her gently and she can barely reciprocate. Lexa is slowly coaxing out the orgasm longer, tongue gentle and fingers slowly shifting inside her still buried deep.

“I want to taste her,” Octavia’s voice is low with need and it twists inside Lexa fuelling her own.

She looks up from where her face is still firmly planted in short blonde curls and meets Octavia’s gaze as she languidly kisses Clarke’s sex. Lexa raises an eyebrow as if to say, well come down here and taste her for yourself. 

Octavia wastes no time crawling toward Lexa, coaxing her up and into a kiss. She licks Clarke’s juices from her chin, pressing against Lexa, driven by the desire and need building between her legs. When Lexa offers up her still cum coated fingers to Octavia she feels her eyes roll back in her head and she moans, already feeling her orgasm starting to build.

So when she feels Clarke nudge her legs apart she doesn’t object to the slow, gentle touch. She turns her head to press a heated kiss to Clarke’s lips before turning back to Lexa and gently laying her down on the bed. 

There’s a small shuffle as they get comfortable, and find the right angles, and Lexa is left with a view of Octavia between her legs while Clarke fucks Octavia from behind. She reaches out and Clarke hands her a pillow to prop her up so she can see, because the sight is something she doesn’t want to miss. Not with the way they’re taking their time today, or how, when Clarke presses down against Octavia’s back to press open mouth kisses along her spine, she’s looking up, locking eyes with Lexa, reaching out her free hand to trail fingernails against the inside of Lexa’s leg.

Lexa doesn’t want to lose a moment, keeping her eyes open, half lidded. She wants to watch them all together like this again, like a soothing balm against her heart. They come back together, again and again, through the rough times, fill each other up and fill up their hearts. And when Octavia bites down on the soft skin of her inner thigh and flicks her thumb across her clit, she lets go and comes undone, surrendering as completely as she knows how.

##  _______________________________________

  
  


For once everyone isn’t packed into the corner booth at The Trading Post. They opted for something with a proper dance floor, one of the new places downtown, and it’s nearly packed, but everyone is out even if they’re hiding out in a corner near the bar instead of seated comfortably at a table, or taking over the dance floor like discussed. Anya’s perched on a stool between Lincoln and Niylah, Octavia and Jasper are playing air hockey at the nearby table, Raven and Lexa and Monty are discussing the finer points of a tesseract and the science in  _ A Wrinkle in Time _ . The book, clearly, glossing over the first movie.

Clarke is bouncing around the circle. It’s overwhelming and good all at once. This is the first time since mid-summer that she’s really been out, the occasional lunch aside. She can feel the press of the bodies around the bar, the heat and energy, she wants to lose herself in it, but she’s afraid of giving up that kind of control tonight. It would be easier if she could curl up against Octavia or Lexa, let them be her strength for tonight, but for so many reasons she has to try to keep herself going all on her own.

Lately she’s been relying on them for so much, and as much as they’re willing to give, Clarke wants to be able to  _ be _ without them. And that doesn’t even touch on the barely out, but mostly not, status of their relationship. Of the nine of them out, three are in the relationship, three know about it, and three have no clue if Clarke is even dating Octavia anymore.

It’s what it has to be for now.

Clarke leans against the air hockey table.

“Watch your fingers,” Jasper warns. Clarke holds up her hands in mock surrender before reaching for Octavia’s drink. She pulls her hand back before she picks it up. Where do they draw the line? Octavia and Clarke have been sharing drinks since forever, but maybe this pretend post-break up Octavia and Clarke wouldn’t, that would be a layer of distance they would decide on. Nothing so close as exchanging saliva.

“I’m going to get a drink, anyone need anything?”

“I’m good,” Octavia replies and winks at Clarke.

“Another?” Jasper shakes an empty beer bottle to indicate his preference.

“Coming right up,” Clarke grins and shoots finger guns toward Jasper as she spins on her heel to head back toward the bar.

She slides up next to Niylah and glances at the trio to her left. Anya’s leaning into Lincoln whispering in his ear even as her body is angled toward Niylah. Lincoln laughs, and Niylah punches Anya playfully in the shoulder. Their camaraderie is easy and light and intimate, and Clarke wonders how she missed it unfolding. How they all did, as Lexa’s said nothing about the way Anya has started to light up and relax around all of them.

Niylah turns to Clarke, nudging her with her elbow, “It’s good to see you out again.”

“It’s good to be out again.” She smiles at Niylah, maybe bigger than she really feels because she can see the question in Niylah’s eyes that she wants to ask but knows now is not the time, and it isn’t really her place, but she’s the kind to be protective of the people she cares about. Niylah’s gaze flicks to Octavia before returning to Clarke. “What about you?” Clarke raises an eyebrow at Anya and her proximity to Niylah.

Niylah shrugs and takes a sip of her drink but there’s a gleam in her eye.

Clarke laughs and turns to the bar to order her and Jasper’s drinks. She turns her back to it and leans against it as she waits. For a moment she closes her eyes and just let it all sink in, her friends, the feeling buzzing around her that she belongs, that she knows she gets to go home to her girls and that really, their little corner of the world isn’t so bad. Her phone buzzes three times and she fishes it out of her pocket.

It’s Octavia on the trios group chat.

_ Octavia 11:11pm : _ I want to be out on that dance floor…

_ Lexa 11:11pm : _ O…

_ Octavia 11:11pm : _ between the two of you, pressed up against you, hands on you

Clarke glances up, Lexa doesn’t even look like she’s checked her phone, but Octavia is grinning and sipping on her drink through her straw and there’s something about it that’s incredibly salacious about it.

_ Clarke 11:13pm : _ i miss getting to dirty dance, half the people out there are all over each other anyway. I bet we could get away with it.

_ Lexa 11:13pm : _ Don’t encourage her.

_ Octavia 11:13pm : _ ♫ i can’t keep my hands to myself ♫

_ Lexa 11:13pm : _ No one else would care, but if we’re the only one’s from our group dancing they might notice.

_ Octavia 11:13pm :  _ fiiiinnne

_ Lexa 11:14pm : _ Don’t pout. You know I want to.

_ Clarke 11:14pm:  _ you mean the way no one is noticing that anya’s flirting with niylah AND lincoln?

Clarke looks up to watch Lexa’s reaction and is rewarded with Lexa whipping her head around to find Anya who now has her lips to Niylah’s ear and her knee pressed to Lincoln’s thigh. Lexa’s jaw drops and she closes it again just as quickly. It only takes her a few moments to move Raven and Monty toward the bar, interrupting the flirtatious trio and joining Clarke in the wait for more drinks.

Lincoln stands, Monty takes his place at the bar. Anya and Niylah shift to the side to make room.

Orders are placed as the bartender drops off Clarke’s whiskey, a glass of water, and Jasper’s beer.

“Just in time!” Jasper says excitedly as he walks up to Clarke, taking the bottle as she holds it out.

Octavia walks up behind them and leans against the bar next to Clarke, her hand slides across Clarke’s waist and around behind her. It’s all at once comforting and lewd. Clarke rolls her eyes, “O…”

Octavia pouts but covers it with a sip of her drink as she notices someone look her way. She’s tired of hiding. She just wants to flirt with her girls, and half the people they’re out with know. Everyone here would be chill. If her brother were with them things might be different. She hasn’t seen Bellamy since a little bit after her accident over the summer. There’s a part of her that misses him, but it’s getting harder and harder to forgive the way he treats her and the women she loves.

Grabbing her drink off the bar she moves back into the group, if she can’t be touching Clarke or Lexa, she needs to not be next to them. It’s easier that way. She stops next to Raven and leans her arm against her shoulder, surveying the group and sipping on her drink. Solace in friends and whatnot.

Raven looks Octavia over, and the arm on her shoulder and shakes her head. Octavia is tipsy for sure. “What do you say, run in the morning Blake?”

She doesn’t hear what Octavia says, even though the other girl answers, because a flash of short cut spiky brown hair is familiar and a flood of uncomfortable memories hits her. It’s been a few weeks since she last saw the physics TA that most of the undergrads were fawning over. He isn’t really someone she wants to deal with. Not tonight, not ever. Mostly he tends to follow her around with puppy dog eyes, he’s harmless, but after Wick it’s just more unwanted attention, not to mention against campus policy.

She watches him scan the crowd, looking for a familiar face as he weaves between bodies. His gaze passes over her, pauses, and turns back. Even in the dim lit room she can see him light up.

“Can one of you pretend to be my partner,” Raven reaches out a hand toward the group interrupting. “One of the TAs from work has a crush on me and he’s on his way over. He’s really bad at being let down gently.” She doesn’t care who takes her up on the offer as long as someone does because he’s on his way over and all she wants is a way to get it through his head that he should move on… or at least stop being so obvious in his pining.

She maybe expects Lincoln to slide an arm around her shoulders, or Niylah to lean against her, maybe kiss her on the cheek. What she isn’t prepared for is Lexa grabbing her hand and pressing her to the bar, hands on settling on her hips, bodies flush together. Their faces are close enough she can smell the sharp tang of whiskey on Lexa’s breath, which explains the heavy press of Lexa’s body. Knee to knee, hip to hip.

Raven swallows thickly as she meets Lexa’s gaze, her hands linking behind Lexa’s neck. They have nowhere else to go, and it helps sell the image unlike the startled way she feels. Something about this just feels right.

For a moment Lexa freezes. She didn’t think this through, all she knew was that Raven didn’t deserve to be hassled by anyone right now, and she’d drunk enough that her impulses took over. The ones she keeps in check with a short leash and a strict set of guidelines she seems to have let loose since she started dating Clarke and Octavia. Her thumbs brush against the front of Raven’s hips, over the material of her jeans, under the edge of her shirt and she can feel skin taut over muscle.

Her brain is fuzzy and all she knows is she wants, and wants, and wants. Her fingertips want to press up under Raven’s shirt and feel the soft skin. She wants to shift her hips to press her thigh between Raven’s legs. Mostly she wants to close the last of the distance between them and kiss her.

Lexa’s heart aches with it.

And she realizes that they’ve been circling closer to this, falling together, all of them, letting Raven into the intimate parts of their life without questioning, and in doing so Lexa finds that her heart, once sealed off, is cracking open to let a third soul in. Her forehead is nearly touching Raven’s, moving imperceptibly closer as she tries to stay still. 

She has enough with Clarke and Octavia, her heart full to bursting with her love for them.

And yet she wants Raven, and it’s more than a physical lust.

And Lexa can feel it reciprocated in Raven’s fingers tangled in her hair, the way she doesn’t move away, but is looking at her with the same reverent awe that Lexa feels. She knows this attraction isn’t one sided and that makes it even more dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese:
> 
> “Minha menina. É você mesmo?” - My Girl, is that you?
> 
>  
> 
> \---------
> 
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also, in case you weren't checking it out there's a plethora of new [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome)


	21. You Already Broke My Heart Once | present day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to the present day for this chapter!
> 
> Also of note: I'm taking another short hiatus while I frantically try to finish writing the next flashback that ended up being much much much longer than I had planned. So you've got that to look forward to? And like last time you can hit me up on tumblr (dreamsheartstory) with questions about the story or headcanons, and I may try to write a couple ficlets.
> 
> You are all wonderful! Thank you for reading :)

Raven hears a glass shatter but she can’t see what happened through the crowd; it was probably just some rich person who got bumped and dropped their glass. It isn’t the first and it probably won’t be the last glass that breaks tonight. She turns back to Niylah and Lincoln, having missed some joke because they’re both laughing. She grins, their laughter is infectious, and after the afternoon she had she’s finally feeling like she can breathe again.

Her phone is locked away in Kane’s office along with all their other things, so there won’t be any more distractions. Tonight is just about the four of them and supporting Clarke’s art, her career. This is the start, what they’ve been working toward, and even if they hit roadblocks along the way she’s certain that being honest with each other will keep them together.

If the past year has given her any hope at all, it’s that, and she really does believe now, more than ever, that things will work out.

Lying on the bed earlier there had been a moment where she started to lose hope, with her there on the bed, and Lexa in the bathroom. They had listened to each other crying and yet neither of them had moved to comfort the other, or said anything. Lexa had leaned against the wall, sliding to the floor, and for a few breaths it felt like that might be the moment it all started to finally break apart, crumbling under the stress, but then Lexa stood up and Clarke came upstairs and there was hope again. The hollow ache between her ribs driven out by love and all the things she thought she would never be able to hold onto again: a real future.

So Raven laughs along with Lincoln and Niylah because tonight feels like the first day of the rest of forever, as if she finally understands what that means, like it’s something she can have.

She takes a sip of her champagne and lets herself be washed away in the conversation again.

“I take it back! Bartending is about more than knowing how to mix drinks.” Lincoln holds up his hands in mock surrender and Niylah grins.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe what I put up with.” Niylah nudges Lincoln with her elbow.

“I still say you should hire bouncers.”

“Looking for a new job?”

“Octavia might skin me if I left her alone at the precinct now that Lexa’s moved on to the law firm.”

“Truth, don’t leave her alone there, if nothing else to protect the rest of the cops from her.” Raven jokes. The higher up in rank Octavia gets the more she relies on cultivating a tough exterior, and not everyone she works with respects what she’s accomplished. “Besides, you two work well together, even after all these years.”

Lincoln nods at Raven and she can see the appreciation in his eyes. It’s been seven years since he and Octavia broke up, and he’s careful sometimes, trying not to overstep the bounds of friendship. It’s rare that exes stay friends, let alone partners at work. It takes a maturity that most people don’t have, and there are so many people involved in this relationship.

“Okay, but you never did tell me the story about the giant gouge on the bartop,” Lincoln turns back to Niylah.

She holds up her hands, pleading the fifth, “That is not my story to tell.”

“Oh, I think I know this one,” Raven grins because like most of the bar stories in the group it traces back to Octavia. “I think Clarke was telling me about one of the times she and Octavia got drunk and-”

“Raven?” 

The air rushes out of her and she freezes, her spine stiff, and cold fear runs through her. Acid hits the back of her tongue as her stomach turns. Her knees threaten to buckle.

_ Wick. _

It’s almost been a year since she had him arrested and she thought this was over. She thought he was done coming after her, done pressuring her to get back together with him, done harassing her about breaking up. He had refused to accept reality, refused to give up when she told him to his face over and over that she was through with him. 

There’s a restraining order against him, and last time he came after her he ended up in jail for a few months. She’s frozen to the spot with bile on the back of her tongue.

Raven blinks and looks up. Lincoln catches her eye and tilts his head slightly. She knows he’s asking if she wants him to do something, if she wants him to just arrest Wick, she has the legal grounds to. He knows who Wick is, caught him trespassing in her apartment, cuffed him and took him away. He knows what Wick did. 

Raven can’t help herself, even after everything she’s deciding to let him talk to her, to hear him out. Let him speak his peace, maybe time in jail had changed him. Tonight Wick is nothing more than a problem to be dealt with. Something that she refuses to let get in the way of Clarke’s first big art show being successful and the last thing she wants to do is cause a scene. She’s happy for the first time in a very long time, and she won’t let him take that from her. From any of them.

Besides, she has the law on her side, quite literally. Lincoln and Octavia are here tonight, so if he doesn’t leave she can have him arrested for violating the restraining order.

Pivoting on her good leg she turns to look up at Wick. She raises an eyebrow waiting for an explanation because  _ don’t speak to me again _ is pretty explicit. He has no reason to be here.

“It is you,” his voice is warm and thick and terrifying after all this time. To anyone else his words would sound sweet, but she’s long since learned to distrust the cloying sound of his voice.

“Well, the world certainly couldn’t handle it if there were more than one of me.”

“No, it couldn’t,” Wick smiles and Raven remembers a time when that smile made her melt. Now, she feels nothing but shivering fear. “One Raven Reyes is quite enough of a wonder for one world.” He sounds reverent almost and it terrifies her.

Raven forces herself to smile politely, not wanting to make a scene, the last thing she wants to do is ruin Clarke’s big night, but she’s glaring at him from behind the smile. If looks could kill Raven is certain Wick would be dying or maybe at least choking on his own spit. Now if she can just get him out the door.

“I’m Lincoln, I don’t think we ever formally met, but we exchanged a few words,” Lincoln says, stepping forward almost in front of Raven, trying to break the tension between them. Wick nods and smiles. Raven wonders if he’s completely forgotten what happened or if he’s just ignoring that Lincoln was one of the arresting officers. Flashes of memory wash over Raven, what his hands felt like on her, calloused, warm, wrapping around her like she was something easily broken.

“Wick,” his grin is lopsided. “And this lovely lady is…”

Raven can see Niylah resisting the urge to roll her eyes, she keeps her hands at her sides and takes a sip of champagne. She can smell a creep from a mile away, and it’s not like she hasn’t heard what happened, “Niylah.”

“I didn’t know you were into art,” Raven smiles tight lipped for a second before she lets it fall.

Wick looks like he knows he’s been caught out, that he came for exactly one reason, to see Raven. He came back and he came back looking for her. 

The longer he stares at her the more Raven wants to scream. She wants him gone because everything he ever did is coming back to her. Every terrible thing that was never really wrong, but added together makes her skin crawl. She tries not to think about how he would come over at midnight after they broke up, knocking on her door, drunk and pleading, and she would let him push inside her apartment to keep her neighbors from seeing him, from overhearing as he begged her to take him back. Yet she can’t get her feet to move, can’t seem to find the words that would free her from this torment.

“I’ve missed you.”

Raven feels a fine tremor start up in her hands and she takes a sip of champagne to cover it up. Until that moment he could have been back for any reason. She knew it was delusional to think he would be here for anything but her. If only it were as easy as telling him she was happily in love with three women, watching the shock hit him like a left hook. If only she thought that were enough to get him to walk away. He’s not like a normal ex. He’s delusional and abusive.

“I can’t say I’ve felt the same.”

“I was wondering if maybe we could talk.”

“I think I made it clear when I had you arrested that I don’t want to talk. That hasn’t changed. If you’re only here tonight to talk to me I think you need to leave, Wick.” Raven squares her shoulders and doesn’t hesitate when Niylah offers to take her empty champagne glass.

“I think she made it clear she doesn’t want you here,” Lincoln steps forward. “Raven has given you more of her time than she has to.”

“I don’t think she asked for your help.” Wick looks Lincoln up and down, a small flicker of recognition in his eyes but he doesn’t move.

Raven shifts her weight between her good leg and her prosthetic, cursing the concrete floor and the hours she’s spent standing that day. Her arms hang uselessly at her sides as she refuses to cross them in front of her like she’s hiding and clasping her hands behind her back in this outfit would send the wrong message. Raven settles for a wider stance hand half curled fists at her side.

She isn’t the shaken girl he knew, only just finding herself after losing everything she thought she would ever have.

Wick turns back to Raven, “Please, I know I messed up-” 

“No. We’re not doing this again.” Raven glances to Lincoln and Niylah, a silent apology in her eyes as she starts leading Wick away from them. He’s her problem to deal with, not theirs. He should have been dealt with long ago. She thought he had. “We can’t do this again. If you don’t leave I’ll have the police take you out of here.” 

Raven tries to be gentle, because for a while, he had been good, he had been sweet and attentive, and at first he had never let her feel like anything less than enough. The more serious they got the more that changed, until he wasn’t who she had started dating at all and she felt like she was losing herself trying to keep up. She’s afraid of what he’s become.

Raven tries to be gentle because she doesn’t want her past ruining tonight for Clarke.

She turns the corner into the center of the gallery, the front doors just in sight. He hasn’t protested yet and she thinks that maybe he will go, maybe the severity of the restraining order has finally dawned on him. Maybe this last year has been a wakeup call for him.

“We were good together though and I, l-”

“Stop.” Raven holds up a hand, but she closes her eyes for a second because the look on his face breaks her heart. The pleading rejection because it’s clear that he doesn’t understand. It’s so blatantly clear that he’s learned nothing between being arrested and the restraining order. 

His voice is quieter when he continues, “Are you seeing someone?”

Raven feels an arm wrap protectively around her waist.

“Yes, she is,” Octavia’s voice is cool and calm and she takes a sip of her champagne. 

Raven’s jaw drops open slightly and she sees Niylah and Lincoln standing not far behind them. It’s clear they aren’t leaving her alone, but they’re letting her take the lead. She’s the one with all the power. For the first time she feels like maybe she’s in control when it comes to Wick. Her racing heart slows down and she mirrors Octavia’s arm, holding her close. Wick may be her problem to deal with, but maybe she doesn’t have to face him alone.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke watches Echo and Costia cross the gallery toward Lexa, her heart in her throat because all she can think of is the first night Lexa told her about Costia. They were drunk on bourbon in the middle of the night, candles and lights from the city below the only illumination as they passed the bottle back and forth, faces sticky with tears and kisses. She remembers leaving that night in Octavia’s arms wondering if she should even hold onto hope that Lexa was strong enough to trust them after how Costia had left. And now, she’s here, smiling as if she didn’t break one of the most beautiful hearts Clarke has ever come across.

Anya grabs her arm, stopping her from following.

Her voice is soft, almost lost in the chatter swelling up around them now that the show is in full swing, “Clarke, it’s been eight years, give her a moment.”

Clarke spins to face Anya, confused and feeling protective, “Why should I allow Costia any time with Le-”

“Not Costia, give  _ Lexa _ , a moment.”

“She broke her heart. I’m not-”

“They were best friends for years. They were closer than lovers.”

Clarke clenches her jaw and glares at Anya. She has little intention of allowing Costia to take anything from Lexa, even a few minutes of her time. She doesn’t want to see Lexa like that again, scared and insecure, afraid she’ll never be able to accept love. She doesn’t see how Anya can be okay letting Costia near Lexa at all.

Anya stops her before she can bring up any retort, “Don’t you dare accuse me of letting Costia walk back into Lexa’s life as if she didn’t shatter her heart once already. Lexa has moved on,” Anya pokes Clarke in the shoulder, “ _ You _ , know that. She’s alive again when she’s with you rag tag lot, and for whatever reason she loves the three of you. So let her have this moment. Lexa will let you know if she needs you.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder at Lexa, who is smiling as she talks with Costia and Echo. Costia has her hands and Clarke tries to gauge Lexa’s reaction. From this distance it’s hard to read the minute emotions that are likely flickering across her face and Clarke takes a sip of champagne.

She wants to cross the gallery and stand by Lexa, but Lexa hasn’t looked for her. She’s holding her own. Clarke tries to tell herself it’s because Lexa knows where they all stand, and Lexa was always best at keeping them in the closet. She tries to tell herself that it’s because Lexa knows she is loved that she can stand in front of Costia and smile. In the back of her mind the voice of doubt she tries to keep subdued keeps muttering to her that it’s because Lexa is happy to see Costia again after all these years.

Clarke downs her the remains of her glass of champagne. She’s forgotten which number this is.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa breathes in through her nose slowly and deliberately, counting the seconds before she holds her breath and lets it out even more slowly, a trick she’s learned from Raven to calm herself down. Costia is twenty feet from her and she can’t connect her brain and her lungs. Her feet are damp with champagne and there’s broken glass at her feet.

There’s broken glass.

She turns to go to find a broom and a dustpan. She turns to flee. After all this time she isn’t sure she wants to face Costia. Lexa isn’t certain she has a choice. She isn’t certain where she’s going and nearly collides with Kane.

Words start tumbling out of her mouth before she knows where she’s going with any of it, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just. I-” Lexa kneels and tries to help Kane clean up the mess but her skirt is tight and shorter than she normally wears and doesn’t allow for that kind of movement. 

“It’s quite alright, Lexa.” Kane glances up at her as he sweeps damp shards of glass into a dustpan. “Are you okay?”

“Yes-” Lexa pauses halfway between standing and kneeling, her eyes locked on Costia and the woman she is with. She is most definitely not okay. But how does she explain in only a few seconds that the woman she thought would be her first and only love, the love of her life, that crushed her hope and heart, just walked back into her life with a stunning woman on her arm? How does she capture the terror and the sorrow, without betraying the love she now holds precious. She has to be okay; it’s just easier that way.

“Thank you,” she whispers as she stands. Kane nods and he looks like he might say something else but he stays silent as he watches her.

Lexa can feel his eyes on her. Costia’s eyes are on her as well, and the other woman’s. It feels like everyone is watching her. Lexa lets out a slow breath and clasps her hands lightly behind her back as she looks around the room. Costia can come to her.

She doesn’t really see anyone else, even as it registers that a few of the patrons are watching her. Lexa feels alone in the crowded room. It isn’t until she sees Indra, standing off to the side, watching her curiously that the panic grips at her again. Indra, her boss of less than a year, has only just learned that she has not one, but three girlfriends, and Lexa still isn’t certain how that will end, but Indra is looking at her with blank curiosity and Lexa knows everything she does tonight is being watched. She’s under evaluation. What kind of woman is she to openly acknowledge being polyamorous? What kind of woman sees her ex and drops champagne all over her shoes that cost nearly a week’s pay, well they did back when she bought them, if Anya hadn’t gotten them for her at a discount. What kind of lawyer would that woman be?

“Lexa, you look amazing!” Costia’s voice is bright and happy and it pierces Lexa’s skin like a knife.

Lexa smiles and takes Costia’s outstretched hands, “Costia, I can’t believe you’re here. It’s been,” Lexa swallows, there was a time when she would have known down to the second how long it had been. She doesn’t anymore and that takes her by surprise. “Eight years?”

“Something like that,” Costia laughs and gives Lexa’s hands a squeeze. She’s no less beautiful than on the day she left, no less bright than their last happy memory, her blue eyes so incredibly alive. Costia lets go of her hands and Lexa fights the urge to clasp them behind her back again. “This is my wife, Echo.”

Lexa forces her smile bigger, swallowing the lump in her throat. It’s been  _ eight _ years, she should be happy for Costia. Lexa lets out a breath and pushes out the rising panic with it, because, it’s a relief. Costia didn’t get trapped in the same hell she did after their break up. She reaches out her hand and catches Echo’s in a firm grip.

“Echo, this is my best friend from childhood, and my-, this is Lexa.” Costia glances down and away for a moment before smiling softly at Lexa, apologetic. There’s something in the way she says Lexa’s name, like it wraps around her tongue, always sitting there even after all these years.

She knows that look, and in that instant she knows Echo has been told the whole story. At least the story as far as Costia knows it. Echo knows the story when it ends with Lexa standing in the spring sunshine, tears streaming down her face wondering where she lost sight of her love, diamond ring clutched tight in her fist.

She doesn’t know how Lexa has a scar from that ring on the palm of her left hand. Or how Lexa lost a year of her life remembering how to breathe. Or anything of the eight years since. 

So when Echo’s smile goes wide, and she pulls Lexa into a hug, she lets her, if only for a moment. A moment is all she can hold herself together for.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven smirks.

She shouldn’t be. She’s trembling inside, afraid of the dangerous line she’s towing and knowing she should let Lincoln and Octavia haul his ass out the door for even daring to show up. That’s what that little piece of paper allows her. He’s violating the law, but her friends are being patient, waiting for her to tell them what she wants. There’s a wildness in the power she’s holding that’s riding her fear like a mustang.

Raven wants to wrap herself up in Octavia’s arms because having this kind of strength gives her the chance to breathe as he watches her, waiting. She feels like she has a fighting chance. She isn’t alone facing him, even as she feels herself spiraling. If he had shown up before today she would have faced Wick alone, only retreating into the strength her girlfriends give her once they were behind closed doors.

For the first time in a long time she really feels proud of who she is and who she’s becoming. This is happiness. Raven resists the urge to kiss Octavia because she’s proud of who she is and how far she’s come in the year since she left Wick, how far she’s come since Finn died.

A smile tugs at at the corner of Raven’s mouth and she lets it grow. She lets herself be happy for just that moment. Ignoring the warning building at the base of her skull. Everything firing off and warning her that Wick could ruin this at any moment. The months of pain he put her through. And the audacity of showing up again. Her arm tightens around Octavia. She’s happy and she isn’t letting him take that from her this time.

Wick sizes up Octavia, maybe he’s checking her out, his constant supplication to Raven to talk with him cut short by Octavia’s sudden appearance. A furrow splits his brow as his gaze drags across the two of them, taking in the way they lean into each other, the ease and comfort they have. Raven wonders if he remembers Octavia from before. The sudden rush of surety washes away from Raven like the tide. His pleasant charm falling away like the mask that it is.

“You’re with…  _ her _ ?” There’s an edge of anger, in his voice. The tone that Raven used to think was him trying to protect her, now she knows better. Hearing that rough edge is like having the wall at her back again as he presses forward, blaming her, making her question every decision.

She nods, not offering any further explanation, but tightens her arm around Octavia. “I am.”

Wick rocks back on his heels and he wipes a hand down his face. “I didn’t think you were into girls. You never mentioned it when we were together. Did Finn know?”

Raven swallows thickly. Finn’s name on his lips feels wrong. Wick would never listen to her about anything that mattered. Not about what had happened to her or what she needed from him. She lets out a slow breath before answering drawing strength from Octavia at her side. Her words are braver than she feels, “It’s never been about gender for me, if you ever paid attention you would know that.”

She can get through this.

“I know you, Raven, this isn’t you,” his voice drops low and there’s a hint of the coy smile he has. His long hair drapes in front of his eyes as he tilts his head and he brushes it away. Raven knows better than to think it’s coincidence, she knows it’s an act. His gaze darts around the room like he’s assessing the possibilities. Raven tries not to think of what they might be.

Octavia takes a half step forward, not letting go of Raven. “You need to leave,” she hisses having had just about enough of him. She can feel Raven’s frantic heartbeat and no matter how calm she may sound Octavia knows she is frightened.

Raven tugs Octavia back to her side, her heart pounding because she doesn’t want Octavia to get caught up in this fight, not again. “I don’t have anything else to say to you, Wick. So just, leave, please.”

His face falls for a split second before it hardens, “Five minutes, come talk with me for five minutes. You owe me that.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Raven spits the words.

Raven can feel Octavia watching her. This conversation is going in circles and Wick is refusing to walk away, refusing to leave. Each time she refuses him she can see him wind up a little tighter, the vein on his temple throbbing every few heartbeats, the way he clenches his jaw and sucks at his teeth. She almost tells Octavia to leave, no one should have to deal with Wick like this, coming unhinged and dangerous.

The last thing she wants is to let him back her up against a wall, trap her in a corner like he has a hundred times before, wondering if this is the time he hits her instead of the wall, watching as his fist shatters drywall. Then she’ll find herself in the bathroom, taping up his knuckles to stop the bleeding, an apology dripping from her lips.

She lets her arm drop from Octavia’s waist and takes a step toward Wick. If she can just calm him down before he escalates maybe she can talk him into leaving. He can be reasoned with, carefully, and on rare occasions.

“Wick?” Raven looks up at him through long eyelashes, hoping she can keep his attention on her and not Octavia. “We broke up almost two years ago,” she keeps her voice soft, but there’s a tremor running through it. All she wants is to scream because this part of her life is supposed to be over. “I can’t do this. Not now, not ever. Just leave before one of us regrets this. We don’t need a repeat of last year do we?”

“It isn’t over for me, I still-”

“Stop!” Raven holds up her hands knowing what his next words will be. “Stop, because you’re just hurting yourself.”

“Are you in love with her?”

Raven takes in a breath that is almost a laugh and shakes her head.  _ More than she could ever say _ , that’s what she wants her answer to be. More than the sun loves the rain, pulling it up into the sky just to watch it fall again. She catches sight of Octavia watching her out of the corner of her eye, waiting. 

She keeps her voice even and unaffected, “Yes, I am, but that doesn’t matter, because whether or not I’m in love doesn’t change the fact that I’ve told you no more than once tonight.”

His shoulders slump slightly and for a moment Raven thinks he might leave. Wick’s hand darts out, wrapping around her wrist, rough and calloused. He tugs her forward and off balance as he pulls her onto her prosthetic. “Please don’t-”

Several things happen in quick succession: Raven yanks her arm out of his grasp and stumbles backwards, Octavia steps forward, catching Raven when she intended to step in front of her so they’re both off balance for a moment, and Wick yells as first Octavia stomps on his foot with her stilettos, and second as Raven tosses Octavia’s champagne in his face.

Raven steadies herself, her hands on Octavia’s shoulders. Her heart is pounding in fear and she swallows down bile. More than anything she hates the fear he makes her feel, because this is nothing she can control. No matter how many times she tries to turn him away he will keep coming back. 

“Get him out of here,” Raven’s voice is only loud enough for Octavia to hear. Octavia gives her a small nod before Raven turns her back to Wick and walks toward the back of the gallery. If she stays she doesn’t know what will happen because right now she can barely breathe well enough to keep moving in a straight line.

Octavia’s voice is a harsh whisper as she walks away. If Wick won’t listen to Raven maybe he’ll listen to Detective Blake.  _ Though she be but little, she is fierce _ .

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke needs to walk away before the desire to rush to Lexa’s side becomes truly overwhelming. Echo steps forward and embraces Lexa and Clarke is too far away to read what Lexa is feeling. The only thing keeping her in place is Anya’s thin fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist.

“I need a drink,” she spins and turns back toward the front of the gallery and the open bar. Anya lets her go.

She takes a glass of champagne, even though she’s already tipsy. The room is warm and bright and when she closes her eyes she can feel a slight sway in the room. She giggles to herself, because it isn’t the room that’s swaying, it’s her. Clarke’s eyes snap open and wonders for a moment if she should find some water. With the way things are starting to go, sober might be better.

Clarke sips at the champagne and tries not to move to where she can see Lexa, because if she watches Lexa right now she’ll hurry to her side. She scans the room, knowing she should be talking to more patrons, making them feel special, giving them insider stories about her so they buy her art. So that they talk other people into buying her art. She stands still.

Raven and Octavia are talking to someone she doesn’t recognize and from the way Octavia has her arm wrapped around Raven, Clarke can tell the conversation isn’t pleasant. She starts to cross the gallery to them when she feels a hand wrap around her elbow. Her mother is just behind her at her side, looking very much like she’s about to start lecturing Clarke.

“How many of those have you had?” Abby raises her eyebrows and tilts her head indicating the glass in Clarke’s hand.

Clarke glances at the champagne flute and back at her mother, a flippant retort burning her tongue. The excitement and nerves of the evening have lost their hold on her and she’s just worried about where this night might end up. “Lost track.”

Abby reaches for her glass and Clarke pulls her hand away, holding it out of reach. “I can make my own decisions.” She crosses an arm across her chest. “Even if they are potentially bad ones.” Clarke takes another sip.

“Fine, but why are you still drinking? I thought the champagne was to take the edge off your nerves, not get drunk.”

Clarke takes a sip of her champagne and hands the glass to Abby, “You're going to want this. Tonight is potentially going to be a bit of a disaster, and it has nothing to do with any media coverage mentioning my relationship.” She waves her now free hand in the air. “That would be a relief, because at least we know to expect that.” Clarke takes a few steps forward so she can see past one of the temporary walls and motions for her mother to follow. “See the pretty woman talking to Lexa-”

“-which one?”

“The shorter one with the fantastic afro.”

“Who is she?”

“Costia.” 

“Lexa’s ex?”

A strangled cry interrupts their conversation. Clarke’s attention snaps back to Octavia, Raven and another patron just in time to see Raven throw a glass of champagne into a man’s face.  _ Wick. _ The thought runs sluggish through her head. She remembers Raven mentioning him when they got home for dinner. That he’d been looking for her. Blurry memories of the weeks after he had broken into Raven’s apartment flash through her head.

“And I'm fairly certain this that is Raven’s stalker ex-boyfriend.” Clarke takes a few steps away from Abby and toward the ongoing commotion. “Besides, I'm still trying to wrap my head around you and Kane. I mean, I'm okay with it. I just have to process, and really, right now, my brain is on backlog for processing.”

Several potential buyers watch her as she strides across the front of the gallery to where Octavia and Lincoln are directing an increasingly violent Wick outside. Clarke can feel their eyes on her as they watch the spectacle unfold. She doesn’t have time to think, just act.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa takes a step back from Echo and forces herself to smile, simultaneously wishing she had one of her girlfriends by her side and glad she doesn’t, because then they would all have to pretend this isn’t strange. It’s hard enough standing her on her own, looking into blue eyes she’ll never forget the shade of, trying not to fall apart, clinging to the reminder that she learned how to love again.

She takes too long staring, silent, unable to get words past her lips. Echo’s smile falters, and Costia looks at her sadly. Lexa blinks slowly pushing the fear and memories down where they won’t spill across her face. It’s little use because she knows Costia will always know what she’s thinking. Even after all these years apart, they don’t need words to know that once having meant everything to each other they will always mean something.

“I’m going to go grab a glass of champagne, do either of you want anything?” Echo asks softly, her hand protectively on Costia’s back.

Lexa watches Costia press up onto her toes and kiss Echo on the cheek, “That would be lovely, darling.”

“Lexa?” Echo tilts her head.

Lexa’s throat is dry and she forces the words out, “A water? Thank you.”

The tension between them only grows as Echo walks away.

She stares at the cluster of freckles under Costia’s left eye, waiting. Lexa would wait forever if it meant she didn’t have to try to understand what she was feeling. Her heart is racing, and she doesn’t know what to expect anymore, because she isn’t in love with Costia any longer. Her heart shattered and bled out, blood pooling black until there was nothing left and she was a shell of herself, a husk easily swayed by the wind. 

Lexa had given up on love.

After waiting an eternity for Costia to come back to her she had shut down, falling to pieces inside while she convinced the world she was fine. Slowly she had become fine, but she was never really alive again until Octavia, and Clarke, and Raven.

Lexa had learned what love was again.

Costia’s voice breaks through her racing thoughts, “I know it’s long overdue, but I owe you an apology for how I left things… how I left  _ us _ .” Her voice is quiet but resolute as if she’s been holding onto these words for so too long. “You were my best friend and you deserved a hell of a lot better than my selfish and terrified retreat.”

An apology is the last thing Lexa thought she would ever hear from Costia. After radio silence for all these years she thought at best they would simply go the rest of their lives never seeing each other again. She had waited for so long, waited for Costia to come back from France and say she had messed up. For the first few years that would have been enough to give her a second chance. 

Costia trembles under Lexa’s unwavering gaze. Lexa can do nothing but watch her as she continues to talk. Costia always had been better at talking ever since they were teenagers.

“I’m not saying I wish I had made a different decision… we were falling apart, Lex.”

Lexa flinches at the familiarity of the nickname and Costia takes a hesitating half step forward.

“I wish I had left you differently, you were my best friend, and you deserved better, especially from me. I know I can never fix what I did, and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry, Lexa.” Costia holds her gaze for a few moments, letting the words hang between them. She looks away first, fixating on her hands as she fusses with the edges of her nail beds. She waits.

Costia never was good at waiting, “Are you happy, Lexa?” She lifts her chin and tilts her head to the side; her eyes are glassy. The small press of her lips together holds back words Lexa knows she can’t or won’t say. The questions she won’t ask.  _ Will you forgive me? _ After all these years though they could never fall together again, it matters.

Lexa swallows and thinks of her girlfriends, an uncontrollable grin tugging on her lips even as she tries to reign it in. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and drops her gaze. It may have taken years of heartbreak but she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. She wouldn’t want to go home and find herself in anyone else’s arms. Not even Costia’s. As she looks back up she finds her voice, “I am.”

“Is she here?” Costia teases her hair, brushing it back from her face.

“Yeah,” this is the moment. “They are. Actually the artist is one of my girlfri-”

A strangled cry cuts through her words.

Lexa’s head snaps in the direction of the sound and she catches sight of Octavia and Raven as they straighten up, steadying each other. Wick sputters champagne dripping down his face.

“Wow, I wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of that.” Costia laughs.

Raven turns swiftly, and pulls away from Octavia. Her face is dark, as if one wrong word would send her fully down the warpath. Lexa knows that look, knows how off-kilter Raven is. She glances around the room, Octavia is still engaged with Wick, it must be him, because Lexa can’t think of a single person who could make Raven quite so angry. She continues looking for Clarke, until she spots her, already heading for the group as their voices continue to rise.

“Excuse me,” Lexa shakes her head, not even sure where to begin. “I have to go check on one of my girlfriends before someone else gets to her and we have a second fight on our hands.” She nods her head in the direction Raven ran off.

Costia raises an eyebrow as she turns back to Lexa. “Do you mean that-”

“I do,” Lexa holds Costia’s gaze, watching her eyes widen slightly for a moment before she simply nods. This was her decision, and she can’t back down. Not if she wants to show her girlfriends that she meant every word. “You should come meet them all after things calm down.”

Costia gives Lexa a small nod before Lexa hurries off after Raven. One disaster at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	22. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 1 | 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The hiatus is over! Hopefully this will be the last, but I might need one more... not for a while though :)

Lexa pauses as she enters the lobby of Anya’s high rise because, there, exiting the mirror-like elevator is Lincoln. It really shouldn’t be as surprising to Lexa as it is, Anya and Lincoln are friends, so it really isn’t that strange, but it’s seven in the morning and so it  _ is _ strange. Mostly because Anya has said absolutely nothing to Lexa about taking a new lover, let alone one who is an integral part of their friend group. It’s also strange that Anya would let someone spend the night.

If Lincoln sees her he doesn’t acknowledge it.

In the elevator Lexa punches the button for the sixteenth floor and sinks back against the far wall. She has other worries right now, bigger than who her sister is or isn’t sleeping with. Chief among them Raven, who, in all honesty, she would have been less surprised to see coming out of Anya’s apartment first thing in the morning what with how Anya and Raven act around each other. Not that it matters, except it does because the heart wrenching feeling that welled up on Friday night is still there on Monday morning, and Lexa is starting to worry what it means.

First off, Raven is their friend. Second off, Lexa is already in a relationship with two fantastic women who she is deeply in love with. Thirdly, Lexa reminds herself, she is worried that her feelings are fickle. What if this infatuation passes once she’s brought it to light? She can’t risk hurting Clarke and Octavia, not with something might be nothing.

Lexa steps off the elevator into the intensely quiet hall and stops in front of her sister’s door.

What if it isn’t nothing? What if it’s one of those feelings that is everything?

Raven has a way of looking into Lexa’s very soul and understanding the complexities within without a single word. There’s an ease of comfort that they share that isn’t echoed in her relationships with Clarke and Octavia. They come together so easily, but some things with Clarke and Octavia have to be worked at and with Raven it’s always been seamless.

The door in front of her opens and Anya stands there, coffee mug in hand, frowning. “Are you going to stand in the hall all day or are you going to come in anytime soon?”

Lexa rolls her eyes and steals Anya’s coffee as she maneuvers around her sister and into the apartment. The coffee is black, no sugar, no cream, and Lexa has grown complacent stealing, and drinking, the sugared concoctions that Clarke and Octavia prefer, that is, when she isn’t drinking green tea with Raven. Black coffee used to be her go to, because that’s what Anya drinks. When Anya passes her in the narrow hall she hands the mug back.

“Do you have any tea?”

“No coffee?” Anya asks, incredulous.

“Seems I’m not used to it anymore.”

Anya nudges Lexa into the kitchen and Lexa goes without question. It’s early and she can’t blame her sister for insisting she make her own tea. Lexa shuffles around the ample, little used, kitchen and starts the process. Neither says anything until the tea is done and they’ve retreated to the nook in the corner that looks down across the waterfront.

Not that there’s a lot to see that morning. The sky is grey and foggy and the view is mostly obscured. A cloud hovers just a few floors up and Lexa stares out into the vast nothingness of it.

“Did you come over just for morning tea, or did you want to talk?” Anya prods as she wraps her robe around herself tighter. 

Lexa knows when her sister is pushing her to talk, they’ve learned over the years to know when to wait and when to push with each other, and Lexa isn’t even sure what she’s going to say. All she knows is she told Clarke and Octavia she had to be at work early this morning and left before either was fully awake, afraid if they saw her that they would know. And she doesn’t even know yet herself what this means.

“I had an interview at Trikru Associates the other week.” She taps her finger against her mug nervously until she notices she’s doing it then she stills her hands, breathes out, and steels her nerves. This isn’t what she had meant to talk about this morning, but the conversation is one long overdue. “I meant to tell you before when I had it, but everything happened with Clarke, and then Raven…”

Anya settles back into the booth and tucks her knees up against the table. “It’s been a dramatic few weeks. How’d the interview go?”

“Good, they want me to come back and talk with the rest of the partners. They’ve just been slammed with cases, and it’s been good… I don’t know if I could handle starting a new job right now.”

Lexa leans back and stares out into the cloud. Even with Clarke in therapy she hasn’t trusted the calm in their house. She keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop and something to go wrong. The twisted feeling in her gut tells her that it’s her turn. Octavia’s near accident, Clarke’s depression, Raven’s stalker… she’s already counting Raven as one of them. It’s been days at most. Though the more she pokes and prods at her feelings the more pronounced and solid they become.

“This is the dream though.” Anya nudges Lexa with her foot.

“Yeah… And, if I were working for a private company, maybe it wouldn’t matter that I’m in an unconventional relationship.”

She lets the silence fall again, even though she can sense Anya’s eyes on her, waiting. They were both stubborn to a fault, but Anya almost always won their silence contests. Once she waited an entire week for Lexa to come to her with a problem. There seemed to be no end to Anya’s ability to wait Lexa out.

“As much fun as this always is, we do both have work this morning.”

Lexa looks over at her sister, curly sun-kissed hair still a mess from sleep, eyes alert, but soft. Her face seems more familiar than Lexa’s own, she barely remembers a time when Anya wasn’t in her life. The one constant.

“Friday at the bar…” Lexa, for how much she had been thinking about Raven, and  _ feelings _ , didn’t have the words to adequately express what they were in that moment. 

Anya sips at her coffee, but leans forward, waiting, listening. She’s wearing a look that says she knows where this is going, but she wants to hear it anyway.

“Before that creep came over to try to talk to Raven.” Lexa swallows thickly.

“It’ll feel better once you say it out loud, just spit it out like you’d rip off a bandaid.”

“That implies it’s something unpleasant.”

“You’re acting like it is.”

Lexa huffs but refrains from crossing her arms. “Just because I have feelings for someone that isn’t one of my girlfriends doesn’t mean that those feelings are  _ good _ . I care about Raven, okay? And I want her to be more than just a friend.”

Anya bites back a grin. “Another falls to the irresistible Reyes charm.”

“It’s not like  _ that _ .”

“Then what is it?”

“I-” Lexa falters. “I like her, okay?”

“Like you like Octavia and Clarke.”

“I’m in love with them. Beyond in love. I’m better for them, with them, they’re my world and give me so much.” Lexa lets her head fall into her hands, elbows propped on the table. “I’m going to ruin everything, Anya.” 

Pain clenches around her heart and she waits for the nausea to pass. She hasn’t been able to look Clarke or Octavia in the eyes since Friday night afraid they’ll see the truth if they do. Saturday night she said she needed alone time and slept in the spare room. Sometime after midnight Clarke had crawled into bed with her on her way in from the studio. They had kissed and it had almost broken Lexa’s resolve to stay silent and it had broken her heart just a little to ask Clarke to go sleep with Octavia instead.

Lexa swallows down tears and turns her attention to her tea and waits for Anya to react.

“Remember what happened when you came to me and told me you were gay, Lex?” Anya reaches out and squeezes Lexa’s hand and waits for Lexa to remember.

Lexa runs her thumb across Anya’s palm. Mostly she tries not to think about being awkward and thirteen, but there were a few good things about growing up and most of them were thanks to Anya. “We borrowed nearly every book the library had about being queer, and you read them all with me, even the fiction ones, we took notes and talked about history and culture and… everything.”

“I wanted you to know that you weren’t alone in feeling how you felt, and I wanted you to know what it meant. You’ve lived an entire lifetime since then. What we didn’t see a lot of then was anything about polyamory. I mean you’re already in love with two women, why couldn’t you love a third?”

Love, the word wraps around her heart, and she tries to push it away, not wanting to think it in association with Raven, not wanting that truth to become real. The more she feels the harder it will be to turn around and be content with Clarke and Octavia. Guilt begins to well up again.

“What if… What if Clarke and Octavia don’t care for her that way? What if Raven doesn’t want anything to do with us? Because I could very easily ruin everything.”

“First off, breathe because it’s too early in the morning to start spiraling. This is only cup number one.” Anya holds up her mug as if to prove her point.

Lexa lays her head down in the crook of her elbow on the table and looks up at Anya. “I can’t lose them. We’re just really settling in solidly now, we’ve kind of found our rhythm and I’m about to mess that up because I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Secondly,” Anya looks down at her pointedly. “Get back into research mode. You know as well as I do family and love and relationships don’t have to look like what we see on TV, there are so many options as long as everyone agrees to play by the rules. So go figure out some different paradigms. If you really do care for Raven like you think you do, how do you talk to Clarke and Octavia about those feelings… how are you going to talk to Raven about those feelings?”

Lexa groans and presses her eyes against her forearm. She knows Anya is right, she needs to get her bearings, and the best way for her to do that is through thorough research. “When did you get so smart?”

“I had help from a precocious teenager.” Anya ruffles Lexa’s hair. 

“I hate you,” Lexa mutters as she sits up trying to take her hair back down.

“No you don’t.” Anya sips her coffee, but there’s a twinkle in her eye.

“No,” Lexa sighs, “I don’t.”

Anya claps a hand to her chest, “Don’t tell me all this love has you going soft on me.” 

Lexa sticks out her tongue, “As if you’re any tougher these days. Was that  _ Lincoln _ I saw leaving your apartment building this morning? You let someone stay overnight?” She’s deflecting, but she needs it, needs to step away from the thought of Raven and the L-word.

“Don’t,” Anya wags a finger at Lexa, “Change the subject. We’re talking about the potential disaster that is  _ your _ love life, not mine.”

“Oh, so you admit to it, then?”

Anya narrows her eyes, “No.”

Laughter bubbles up in Lexa’s throat and it only makes Anya glare at her harder. For just a moment it’s them again, together against the world. She misses this, sitting with Anya across the breakfast table and fitting together pieces of their lives before the day starts. Before breakfast they could believe in impossible things, passing tests they hadn’t studied for, acing interviews, making amends with a friend, figuring out their hearts. Lexa lets out a heavy sigh and squeezes Anya’s hand once more before withdrawing her own.

“I need to get to work.”

“Me too.” Anya slips out of the nook and follows Lexa to the door.

Lexa is halfway through the door when she turns, “You care about her too, don’t you?”

Anya rolls her eyes, “Don’t you dare tell her, I’ll never hear the end of it.” She pulls Lexa into a hug, as crushing as it is comforting. “And Clarke and Octavia… your heart chose wisely.”

Lexa only has a moment to be confused before Anya is laughing at the bewildered look on her face and closing the door. Her heart swells in equal measure of happiness and fear. She’s learned how to open up her heart again, but she wonders how hard it will mean she has to fight, to let her love be enough to keep the ones it’s chosen close.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke leans and against Octavia, laptop propped on her knees as she clicks idly through twitter. Octavia has the latest issue of  _ Ms. Marvel _ spread out on her lap. They’re waiting for Lexa to get home, but Lexa is running late and opted to pick up takeout from the Thai place downtown. She leans her head back onto Octavia’s shoulder and nuzzles her girlfriend’s ear. 

It’s Monday night and that means they’re sitting down, going over their schedules, seeing who has time for what chores, what nights they’ll all eat dinner together… or at least try to. With Clarke and Octavia’s ever changing schedules, and the nights Lexa has to work late it isn’t always something that happens.

“Do you think I have time for an ice cream before dinner?” Clarke asks.

There’s the jangle of keys and the front door swings open.

“I’m going to go with no,” Octavia laughs.

“Thanks.” Clarke rolls her eyes and calls out a hello to Lexa.

There’s a flurry of movement, Octavia taking their dinner and laying it out on the coffee table, Clarke helping Lexa with her coat, while Lexa takes off her shoes. Kisses are exchanged, barely there pecks, the pleasantries that come with an arrival home.

“Ready to do this?” Octavia calls over her shoulder to Lexa who is still straggling, bringing in glasses of water from the kitchen.

Lexa closes her eyes and bites back a sigh. She’s exhausted, and not the least bit hungry, but she doesn’t want to get into the whys of what is wrong quite yet. Maybe it won’t be something wrong as it will turn out to be a something good, but she isn’t there yet. She isn’t really ready to admit her feelings about Raven to anyone, she barely wants to admit them to herself even though she found herself confessing to Anya that morning.

“Always,” Lexa smiles softly as she sets the water glasses down and sits on the edge of the couch. 

They chat idly about their days, and the house, and what needs work, and what needs cleaning, and everyone agrees to pick up a few chores. They’re most of the way through dinner when the conversation turns back toward their schedules and who will actually be home when.

Lexa pulls out her phone. “I’ve got court on Wednesday and Thursday, and possibly Friday depending upon how the case goes. Which means I’ll probably be late on Tuesday, and you might have to start movie night without me on Wednesday.”

“We need to do a grocery run before the week passes.” Clarke looks up from her plate where she’s dishing up a second helping of spring rolls and green curry.

“Do you think you two can take care of that? I’ll get a list together tonight or in the morning…” Lexa trails off.

“Of course,” Octavia mumbles around a mouthful of Pad Thai. “Lincoln and I are on day shifts this week for patrols, and on call Thursday and Saturday, but I have Wednesday, Sunday, and next Monday off.”

“I’ve got a show at the gallery to manage on Saturday… so I’ll probably be prepping that on Friday night after I get done with therapy. Which leaves us, Wednesday and Sunday this week for sure? I think Raven’s coming over on Wednesday for movie night.” Clarke frowns. Usually they manage more than two evenings together at least. Though it’s not unusual for them to only have one full day together.

“Probably, I can’t guarantee anything this week.” Lexa shoves a bite of curry into her mouth and focuses on her plate. It isn’t true, she could probably get this case wrapped up, but she needs time to do her own research, and the more time she’s away from Clarke and Octavia the less time she spends feeling guilty. It’s easier to feel like things might be okay when she isn’t looking them in the eyes.

Clarke pokes at her food with her fork and glances up at Octavia. She can see the disappointment mirrored in her eyes. There’s something thin about Lexa’s excuse, usually she works hard to be home, even her toughest cases she tries to leave by six or seven in the evening. Octavia will have dinner ready, or they’ll order in, but it’s rare that Lexa pulls back so easily. 

“I’m sorry,” Lexa dips her head unable to keep the tremble out of her voice. “I’ve just been swamped with work and I’ve got a case at work that’s going to be… well, hell.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Octavia sets down her phone and leans up and over the coffee table to press a soft kiss to Lexa’s lips. “We’ll play this week by ear, okay?”

“Yeah, we know how it goes sometimes.” Clarke grabs her plate and moves to the couch next to Lexa. “Why don’t we watch a movie and then head to bed early tonight?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Lexa nods rapidly. A movie at least means they won’t be talking, and if they’re not talking she can avoid any conversation about Raven. “Are you sure you two are going to be okay going grocery shopping this week?”

“Clarke and I did manage to feed ourselves before we started dating you,” Octavia teases as she plops down on the other side of Lexa, still munching on a spring roll.

“Though not nearly quite as well.” Clarke flips through the movie selections on On Demand. “Comedy? Action? Drama?”

“Maybe something MCU?” Octavia tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it across their laps. “And besides, Lexa, we’ll have your list, we’ll be fine with the shopping.”

“As long as you don’t come home with ice cream and doritos and nothing else.” Lexa holds back a small smirk, she almost feels like she can pretend everything is normal as she wraps Octavia’s arm around her stomach and settles in against her shoulder. She swings her feet over Clarke’s lap and tugs her closer with her heels. She’s done with her dinner even though she barely touched it.

“That was  _ one _ time,” Octavia protests.

“One time was enough,” Clarke laughs.

Lexa settles in deeper between her girlfriends, one hand cupped lightly around Octavia’s bicep. She lets her eyes flutter shut before the opening credits of the movie start. It’s barely been sixty hours since she drunkenly pressed up against Raven and she’s already exhausted by her feelings. After talking to Anya this morning she barely had any time at all to process. She wasn’t lying when she said worke had her running around… but she wasn’t really being truthful in the reason for her exhaustion. 

Clarke rubs circles along the seam of Lexa’s jeans near her knee and Lexa lets it lull her into a semi-asleep state, just feeling the rise and fall of Octavia’s chest.

Octavia looks over to Clarke and catches her eye. She glances pointedly at Lexa asleep between them, still gently clinging to them even as she rests. Neither needs words to know what the other is thinking: something is bothering Lexa, something deep and exhausting… something that maybe they need to talk about, but neither is ready for that tonight. They’ve only just started feeling like things are good again.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven’s hands are steady as she straps the prosthetic in place. Her insides are fluttering and jittery. This is their third test of the new sensor and she’s pretty sure that between her engineering skills, Monty’s computer know how, and Jasper’s bionics ingenuity they’re close to cracking this design. The last few test she nearly ended up on her ass, but they’re getting there. 

The technology exists it’s just too expensive for most people, even with insurance. Raven’s trying to figure out how to engineer something durable and inexpensive.

The socket is designed especially for her, and that’s part of what makes prosthetics so incredibly expensive, the most important piece, how the whole device attaches to and interfaces with the wearer has to be completely customized to each residual limb. The technology behind how the limb functions is replicable across similar devices, knee joints, ankle joints, elbows, wrists, etc. but the socket is completely unique. So being able to craft a socket that is dynamically rigid and soft at varying levels with pinpoint accuracy, is what breaks the bank. Raven’s been experimenting with 3D printing and the textiles department over in the art school to make a cheaper version of the material that BionX uses. One step at a time.

Raven pats the leg and breathes out, sending up a small prayer that this works better than the last one, that the printed parts hold. She needs that little victory today, the distraction, the celebration, because ever since Friday night she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Lexa, and by extension, Octavia and Clarke. It’s becoming evidently clear, that no matter how hard she fights it, she’s developing feelings for them, especially Lexa.

The first inkling really hit when they asked her to stay with Clarke when Lexa held Raven in the morning and she knew it was more. Their connection didn’t need words. And the look on Lexa’s face on Friday night, the openness wrapped up in fear and desire. She could feel her thrumming heartbeat and the way Lexa had resisted closing the distance between them, her lower lip trembling. And all Raven had wanted to do was kiss her and know how it felt to take that lip between her teeth. She wanted to know what it felt like to wake up next to someone who saw her as whole, that saw her the way Lexa does.

It isn’t just Lexa either. Clarke slowly breaking open for her and letting her inside and all the comfort she couldn’t offer. And Octavia… Octavia scared and hurting and asking her to stay. They should have moved to the bed, they could have moved to the bed, but they had stayed there pressed together on the couch and-

“Ready for this?” Jasper asks and holds out his hand to Raven.

“We’ve got you.” Monty holds out his hand as well.

Right. Work. Distraction.

“You bet your ass I’m ready for this,” Raven grins and reaches for their hands as she stands up. At first she keeps her weight on her good leg, not ready to put weight on the prosthetic, holding onto hope for just one more second. Adjusting her grip on Jasper’s forearm she looks up at him, worrying her lip between her teeth. This is the telling moment, if her design, specifically the electro-textile works the way she wants it to.

She tries to flex her knee, something she hasn’t done since they cut her leg off. She tries to remember what it felt like and wonders if someone with a more recent amputation would find this easier or more intuitive. The prosthetic twitches.

Raven lifts her thigh and tries to flex the knee joint again, it bends.

Jasper lets out a whoop, and Monty squeezes Raven’s forearm.

The real test though, Raven chews on her lip, concentrating harder than she probably should, and extends her leg. The knee straightens.

“That’s good, right?” Monty asks.

“Incredibly,” Raven breathes out in awe. It’s always amazing when she feels the power of the bionic limb, the ability to control the robot with her mind. Not completely. There still have to be muscles for the limb to interface with, the technology isn’t quite there to plug into the neural system yet.

Once they do. Once someone cracks that… an amputee could, in theory, lose their entire leg to the hip and still be able to wiggle their toes.

Raven’s smile breaks across her face like sunshine and rainbows after a summer storm. There’s nothing like seeing movement when she thinks it. She can’t feel it but the limb responds to her. She sets the foot back down and shifts her weight back and forth before taking a few experimental steps.

There are several sudden raps on the doorframe as Bellamy walks into the lab.

“Hey! She walks!”

“Shut it, Bell,” Raven rolls her eyes and takes several steady steps towards him. The response isn’t quite what she wants it to be but that just might be some fine tuning in the programming. “I made this leg, so you can suck it.”

“Alright,” Bellamy holds up his hands in mock surrender. “That’s actually pretty badass.”

“I know.” Raven says smugly as she takes a lap around the lab, bouncing here and there and taking a few quicker, almost running steps. Making it back to the center she takes a few hops as high as she can.

“Alright, show off.” Bellamy nudges Raven in the shoulder.

“I gotta test it out, make sure it’s gonna hold up, make sure it’s actually responding right. Next test is out on the track.” Raven grins. She bounces back and forth feeling how the prosthetic responds to rapid side to side motion, the way she has to engage muscles slightly differently to make the leg do what she wants. There’s more power behind the movement than the last iteration, but it’s heavier, something she needs to work on in future designs.

“When are you running next?” Monty hops up on the counter and leans against the cabinets right next to one of the  _ Do Not Sit On the Counters  _ signs.

“Octavia and I are planning on a run tomorrow morning, I can see if she wants to take a detour to the track first to run some tests.”

“She’s always high key about helping you become a bionic woman,” Jasper laughs.

“Girl lives her life high key.” Raven continues around the room testing out the responsiveness. “Still, she can’t keep up with me when I go all out.”

Bellamy slumps down into a chair and props his feet up on one of the lab tables. “How long have you two been running together?”

“Last fall I think?” Raven shrugs. “We usually try to get out once or twice a week together. Why?” She spins on the prosthetic to face him, hands out to catch herself just in case.

Jasper and Monty slip off to the side of the room to fiddle with something and Raven resists the urge to glare at them for physically backing out of this conversation. 

“I think the only times I see her anymore are when we all go out for dinner, and she’s my sister, I should see her more than that.” He punches his thigh with the side of his fist.

Raven nudges his feet off the lab table and hops up on it, guilt at her own missed family connections welling up inside her. She tries not to count the time that’s passed since she set foot inside her mother’s house, though she’s making progress. She called her mother back at last, promised she’d make it to Christmas this year. 

“Dude, it goes two ways. When was the last time you called  _ her _ ?” Raven flexes her leg and watches as the prosthetic extends out to kick Bellamy in the shin. She bites her bottom lip to keep from giggling with delight because now isn’t really the time for that.

Bellamy crosses his arms and huffs. “I tried at first, but she just comes up with excuses. This week it’s the house, and then Lexa needs help with a case, and she needs to spend time with Clarke… How is it that you see my sister more than I do?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t see her much at all if we didn’t run together. That’s half the reason I see Clarke and Lexa as much as I do.” Raven tries to shrug it off. “And you know, owning a house is a big responsibility, and she is kind of in a serious relationship with Clarke.”

“But Lexa? How does spending time with  _ her _ trump spending time with her own family?”

Raven looks down and starts fiddling with the straps on the prosthetic. She doesn’t know for sure, only half sentences and shared glances between Octavia and her girlfriends. They don’t talk about whatever happened on the day they moved in, but Raven knows  _ something _ happened between Bellamy and Lexa, and it’s shattered the fragile bond between Octavia and her brother.

When she straightens up and looks at Bellamy again he’s wearing a scowl. Before she would have thought it little more than a big brother missing his little sister, angry at her absence. She turns the story Octavia told her over in her mind and wonders how much of his parents Bellamy has in him. How much of that rage lives in him?

“She’s been busy,” Raven offers up lamely. “I only really see her when we train.” Which isn’t true at all, but she doesn’t want to make this worse.

“No. It’s more than that. Things have been weird ever since she met Lexa.”

Raven gives Bellamy an incredulous look as she slides down off the lab desk and into a chair to switch back to her regular prosthetic. She scoots her chair back so one of the desk obscures her leg from his view, finding herself suddenly uncomfortable. It’s new, being uncomfortable in front of Bellamy. He’s upset her, made her angry, but she’s never felt uncomfortable around him. Though suddenly she feels like she doesn’t know Bellamy at all. “What do you mean?”

Raven knows full well what’s changed.

“I don’t trust her. I mean she’s a lawyer, they basically lie for a living.” Bellamy rolls his eyes and laughs.

“Dude, they don’t lie, just because they manage to see connections and make arguments you can’t follow doesn’t mean they lie.” Raven retorts. She’s feeling protective.

“Lexa’s not like that,” Monty glances at Bellamy and then back at Raven as he takes the prototype prosthetic from her. He raises his eyebrows as if to ask if she wants him to do something. She gives a small shake of her head.

“Besides, Lexa’s chill. Totally one of us. Both her and Anya,” Raven argues.

“I like her sister even less.”

“Just because Anya doesn’t like  _ you _ ,” Jasper laughs.

“It’s not funny. I think they’ve fucked around with O’s head.” Bellamy hits the desk in front of him in frustration. “I used to see her all the time. It was annoying how much I’d come home and she’d be on my couch drinking my beer.”

Jasper plops down in the seat next to Bellamy, his posture is very man to man, let’s have this out, and Raven watches them warily, wondering if she’ll need to jump in and set either of them straight. “Have you tried talking to  _ her _ about this?”

Raven breathes out and goes back to packing her things for the trial, trying not to internalize Bellamy’s lame excuse. She knows exactly how long it’s been since Octavia said anything about Bellamy contacting her outside of the main group chat. It’s been since they moved in. Part of her feels for him, he’s been her friend a lot longer, and she knows how much he cares about his sister. Still, something has her worried, and she resolves to talk to Octavia before Bellamy does.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia pushes the grocery cart along with one foot, the other propped up on the bar. Clarke is ahead of her, Lexa’s list in hand, her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she searches for the right brand of dish soap. She nudges Clarke with the cart, half out of boredom but mostly because she wants to talk about Lexa, even if this seems like a bad place to start a conversation like that.

She remembers Abby lecturing Jake once about airing dirty laundry in public, it hadn’t made sense then, but now, not knowing who might hear, she understands. It’s one of those things you hear as a kid but don’t really get until you’re older and find yourself in a similar situation. Even though they’re out just them, they can’t risk someone overhearing their conversation as they accidentally out themselves.

It doesn’t change that Octavia is worried about Lexa and her pulling away last night. Lexa only gets this quiet when something is wrong and Octavia thought everything was going okay. Things were getting good again, consistently good. Clarke is on the mend, and Lexa might be getting a new job, and well, things are pretty chill with Octavia. 

Except this.

This has Octavia chewing on the skin of her bottom lip and trying to sort things out in her head just to figure out what might have caused Lexa to pull away. In the past she’s let herself breeze past warning signs, done it one too many times to be forgiven as much as she has been. The last thing she wants is to miss something and have it lead to fights, or depression slumps, or at the very worst, break ups.

“O?... Earth to Octavia?” Clarke moves the front of the cart and walks back to her girlfriend who’s clearly lost in her own world. She drops the dish soap into the basket, having finally found the one she recognizes.

“What’s left?” Octavia bites the inside of her cheek.

“Not much for the list… but it doesn’t seem like enough.”

“We could get ice cream and chips?”

“No. Lexa said to stick to the list.”

Octavia pouts and pushes the cart around the corner. “I still think we should. It feels like a comfort food week. Besides you ate the last of the ice cream last week and I want chips.”

“It was a rough session.” Clarke says defensively.

“I didn’t…” Octavia trails off, guilt twisting in her gut. She flexes her fingers around the push bar of the shopping cart feeling the solid plastic beneath her skin, the edges of it where it presses in as she tightens her grip. She stops suddenly and it takes Clarke a couple of steps before she stops too, having reached for a cart that wasn’t at her side. Clarke turns around. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

Octavia tosses her hands up in the air as if she could grasp the answer out of the air, words feeling inadequate. For everything. “That I didn’t realize this time… that I let you feel like you couldn’t turn to us.” Her heart is pounding in her chest and she’s regretting her decision to start this conversation here and now, but it’s already going and if she tries to stop the flood now the dam will break.

“I fucked up, Clarke.” Octavia doesn’t want to have this conversation next to the paper towels but she doesn’t want to deflect this. “I’m supposed to be there for you, no matter what. I should have known this time was different. I haven’t been there for you like I should have been.”

They’re standing in front of the cleaning supplies and the aisle is empty. Clarke glances around and when no one joins them in the cleaning aisle she reaches out and pulls Octavia towards her, arms inside her girlfriend’s jacket as she settles in close, not quite sure where this sudden dip in mood is coming from. “Hey now.” She runs her hands up and down Octavia’s back. “We’re working on it, getting back to things being good.”

“I should have listened to Lexa when she said she was worried about you. I shouldn’t ignore your spirals just because I’m used to them.” Octavia mirrors her hands on Clarke’s waist and sighs at the feeling and warmth radiating from her. “And before when we first started trying to date Lexa, I pushed you, I didn’t listen then either.” She’s upset, but more angry with herself than anything.

“Where’s this coming from?” Clarke searches Octavia’s face for a clue and tries to pull her closer, but Octavia resists.

“Lexa.” Octavia can feel the weight of it all on her shoulders, she just wants to know what is going on before things go wrong. “Last night, she completely brushed off making plans with us this week. She’s never done that.”

Clarke rubs at Octavia’s sides and tries to shake the frown off her face, not quite convinced there’s anything to worry about yet. “She’s got a busy week, and your free days and mine don’t match up with hers, it was bound to happen.”

“Saturday night she slept in the spare room. It feels like she’s pulling away.” Octavia purses her lips, holding in the words before they tumble out like a prayer. “I’m not letting it happen again, I’m not ignoring something that I could maybe set right before it becomes a problem.”

“What do you think is happening?”

There’s a beat and Octavia opens her mouth, feeling the words wanting to come pouring out of her mouth fueled by a harsh tone. She snaps her mouth shut. She isn’t angry with Clarke, or even Lexa. She pulls away from Clarke and resumes pushing the cart down the aisle, needing to move again before she starts a fight she doesn’t want to have. “You noticed it last night,” she says softly. “It just feels off.”

“It did,” Clarke catches up to Octavia as they round the corner to the next aisle and slides her hand under Octavia’s coat to rest her hand on the small of her girlfriend’s back.

“Everything seemed fine Friday night when we went out, but by Saturday it wasn’t.”

Clarke glances down at the list and back up at the wares around her to see if there’s anything they need. “But then she cuddled with us on the couch during the movie last night, and came to bed. Maybe it’s just a funky week. We keep an eye on things, but let’s give Lexa some time to come to us if something is bothering her.”

There’s a scream tickling the back of her throat because time is what she doesn’t want to spend. “That’s what I told  _ her _ before… before things got really bad for you.” Octavia sucks in a breath and swallows it down.

Clarke tugs on Octavia’s elbow to get her to stop, so they’re face to face again, this time clustered close to the canned vegetables. There’s a family at the other end of the aisle but she can’t not be touching Octavia right now. Not with the way her voice cracks with frustration and worry and guilt over what happened.

“If Lexa doesn’t come to us we’ll talk to her on Sunday night. That gives her the week to work through things.” Clarke nods emphatically, “It also gives us a week to figure out if we can remember anything that happened Friday that might have sparked the change.”

“Okay, but no later than Sunday.”

Clarke nods.

Octavia frowns to cover up a smile as she links her arm through Clarke’s and they continue further down the aisle. Their talk turns back to the grocery list and what else they need, and how boring shopping is. Clarke grabs a few cans as they go, mushrooms for pizza, beans for chili, tomatoes for spaghetti, water chestnuts for stir fry. Dropping the last of the cans into the cart she bumps Octavia’s hips with her own, scooting her over so they can both lean against the push bar.

Octavia tries to sneak no less than three different packages of cookies into the cart when Clarke’s back is turned, and it isn’t until they’ve checked all the items off the list that their conversation shifts back to Lexa.

“I don’t get it, the only thing that happened Friday night was that lovesick TA trying to hit on Raven.” Octavia bumps her head against Clarke’s shoulder trying to think.

Clarke turns her head and presses a kiss to Octavia’s temple. “I have no idea what’s going through her head, but this is us, and Lexa. We’ll figure it out.” 

Octavia turns her head, and the kiss is soft, a press of lips, a comforting promise. They forget for a moment that they aren’t out anymore. Not until they hear a kid exclaiming loudly to their parent that  _ those girls are kissing! _ It’s a snap back to the reality that is the coffee aisle at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon.

They laugh and blush and speed walk out of sight. It’s freeing almost, being caught out like two teenagers, and Clarke presses kisses to Octavia’s shoulder and her cheek as she tells her to head back toward the freezer section. 

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa has a notebook clutched under her arm, the first several pages filled with scribbled notes. She’s finished prepping for her case the next day shortly after lunch and couldn’t focus enough to review her notes again. She should have, but the case was straightforward, they’d be in and out quickly, unlike what she had told Clarke and Octavia. She swallows down the guilt.

She had needed the time. Dozens of webpages and half a dozen books later and she has several definitions of polyamory scribbled down in her notebook as well as a few anecdotal quotes. All she’s managed to do is prove to herself that there is no solid definition of polyamory beyond loving multiple people. The level of commitment varies, the arrangement of partners varies, even the types of intimacy can vary. Not every polyamorous relationship involves people that are directly involved with everyone else in the relationship.

The one aspect that most advocates seemed to agree on was that open communication is the key to making any relationship work. That went for any relationship, whether it was between two people, or three… or four.

Lexa chews on her lip as she steps into the elevator to take her up to Anya’s apartment. What would she want her relationship to look like if she were to approach Raven? She can’t imagine splitting her time between Clarke and Octavia, and Raven. If she dates Raven she wants her to a part of her life like the others are. The more she thinks about it the more she realizes pursuing Raven means the three of them pursue her or not at all. 

She just isn’t wired for that kind of open relationship.

She doesn’t think Clarke is either. Not if what happened when Octavia pursued Lexa is any indication. They have to be in this together.

After her research she had written out pages and pages of possibilities and pros and cons, written out pleas and arguments, and yet she’s still an aching, scared mess. There’s only so much logic that can be applied to love.

Knocking rapidly on Anya’s door she rocks back on her heels. There isn’t any other option she can think to talk over with her sister than the ones she’s already turned over in her head, but she needs to hear from someone else that what she’s deciding is the right thing to do. Or at least not the worst option. She needs to know that she’s approaching this logically and not stubbornly following her heart down a path she can’t climb back up.

Anya’s voice echoes behind the door and she hears footsteps. What doesn’t expect is Niylah to open the door, shirt only half buttoned and tucked haphazardly into her jeans, feet bare, still brushing her teeth. It’s six in the evening, which if Lexa thinks about it means Niylah is probably on her way to work, but that doesn’t explain anything.

“Hey, Lexa.” Niylah says around a mouthful of foam. She leaves the door open and pads back into the apartment, disappearing into the bathroom.

“Hey,” Lexa says quietly as she steps into the apartment and shuts the door behind her. She clutches her notebook tighter to her chest as if she’s afraid its contents will be on display if she doesn’t. “I can come back later if I’m interrupting?”

“Well, maybe if you called instead of just stopping by.” Anya rounds the corner from the bedroom in an oversized shirt and a pair of yoga pants. 

Lexa swallows down a smirk. “Sorry, I learned my bad habits from my big sis. At least I’ve learned how to knock even though I have a key.”

Anya narrows her eyes and snatches a throw pillow off the back of the couch to chuck at Lexa’s head. Lexa catches it easily and grins.

Emerging from the bathroom, put together minus her shoes, Niylah twists her hair up into a clip. “Also, I’m just on my way out the door, so nothing to to interrupt.” She winks at Lexa before slipping on her Vans. “You should stop by the bar on your way home, you look like you could use a drink. On me.”

And like that, she’s out the door, and Lexa is standing in the middle of Anya’s apartment clutching a throw pillow, entirely certain that this is the second day in a row she’s found one of her friends leaving her sister’s apartment after a tryst.

“So how many of our friends exactly are you sleeping with?” Lexa tears her gaze from the closed door and fixes it on Anya.

“Who says I’m sleeping with any of them?”

Lexa throws the pillow back at Anya who ducks and heads towards the kitchen. “Really? Niylah was half dressed when she answered your door. She has a toothbrush here.” Lexa follows behind Anya closely and pokes her in the side. “ _ I _ don’t even have a toothbrush here anymore.”

Anya squirms away and twists out of Lexa’s reach, “It was old and needed to be replaced so I threw it out.”

Smacking Anya with her notebook she moves towards the little nook overlooking the city, “Do you still have that rosé chilled, or did you two finish that before you dirtied the sheets?” 

“If you must know,” Anya sets her with a stare. “We didn’t drink anything, and we didn’t fuck.” She tilts her head side to side, “Today anyway. And who said we bothered with making it to the bed? That table is remarkably sturdy.” 

There’s just enough of the rosé left for two small glasses.

Lexa narrows her eyes but doesn’t move her arms from the table top. “Remind me to tell you what’s been done in your favorite chair sometime.”

“You didn’t.” Anya sets the bottle down on the counter hard. “Who? When?”

“You were out of town,” Lexa shies away from Anya as she approaches, waiting for the onslaught.

“You know what, nevermind. I don’t need to know. Just like you don’t need to know who is or isn’t in my bed.”

Lexa settles into the nook where she sat a little more than twenty-four hours ago and confessed to her sister that she had feelings for her friend. She thought she was overwhelmed with how she felt then, but now she feels consumed by it, as if the feeling will devour her. She can turn to it willingly, be taken into its waiting maw, or dragged forcibly, either way she will have to face the truth in her heart.

“You’ve gone into research mode.” Anya says tapping the notebook. 

“So, what, you two were, napping?” Lexa teases, ignoring the comment about research.

“And talking,” Anya sighs heavily and twirls the wine glass between her fingers, smiling like she’s holding onto something soft and precious.

“You’re telling me that my big sister took a girl to bed to cuddle and talk and they didn’t have sex?”

“Shut up,” Anya nudges Lexa under the table with her foot. “You say it like it’s impossible for me to form any kind of relationship.”

Lexa isn’t sure if Anya is being serious, she’s rarely seen her like this, almost never. She sips at the wine to stall for just a moment. “A year and a half ago you swore up and down you were happy not having emotional attachments beyond your wonderful baby sis.”

“I wouldn’t go that far, pretty sure I wouldn’t call you wonderful.” Anya leans forward, teasing, but meeting Lexa’s eyes with an unexpected sincerity. 

“What changed?”

Anya shifts on the bench, leaning her back against the pillows piled up against the glass of the window. She brings her feet up, leaning her forearms against her thighs and she reclines, wine glass dangling from her fingertips. She sips.

“You,” Anya rolls her head to the side and looks at Lexa again, waving her hand as if to illustrate a point. “Everything you were going through, I wanted to be ready so I went into research mode. Absorbed everything I could about unconventional relationships, and about sexuality and gender - everything that’s come out since you did.” Anya rubs her thumb and pointer finger against her eyebrows.

“I just kept waiting for you to come back, for you to try to wrap your head around polyamory and freak out about what you were doing with Clarke and Octavia, but you just ran with it, you didn’t question anything, and I didn’t want you to, so I let it go.”

Lexa reaches out across the table and catches Anya’s hand in hers and squeezes it gently. “You and Lincoln and Niylah?”

“More like me and Lincoln, and me and Niylah,” Anya leans her head back against the glass. “I don’t fit things into nice neat little boxes like you do, but everyone knows, and we’re making it work.” She shrugs, but there’s that smile on her lips again, fluttery and light and new.

“You’re happy.” 

Anya’s smile curls at the corner of her mouth and she closes her eyes. Lexa watches, heart winding in circles trying to feel everything in her life at once. Joy at seeing her sister content, heart open, trepidation and excitement over Raven, fear over what her own feelings will do to Clarke and Octavia. Fear that Clarke will withdraw and crash, fear the Octavia will react with anger, protecting Clarke. And through it all not believing that she will get through this unscathed, having used all her second chances in love up when she opened up to her girlfriends.

“What are you going to do about Raven?”

Lexa props her head in her hands, elbows on the table. “Why didn’t you ever go after her?”

“Who’s to say we-” Anya looks over at Lexa and the shit eating grin on her face drops. 

Lexa can feel the frown tug at the corners of her mouth, hating that she’s bothered at all by something that isn’t hers to have a say in.

“She said no. It was right after she had left Wick, she needed a friend not a fuck buddy.” Anya shrugs.

A smile flickers at the corners of her mouth for a millisecond. Lexa pushes her half forgotten wine glass across the table top, “This isn’t going to end well is it? No matter how I play it out in my head I end up hurting, and at worst I end up hurting the three of them. They deserve better than that, especially from me.”

She doesn’t look up, doesn’t want to see that look on her sister’s face that tells her she’s being dramatic. She  _ knows _ she’s being dramatic, but it’s like the tide, she can’t stop it. Everything inside her is pushing her toward this, even as she can already see the pain in Clarke’s eyes, and the understanding sadness in Octavia’s. Even as she knows Raven would never want to be complicit in hurting them. Lexa can stay silent and destroy herself, or be honest and take down everyone in her path. High tide during a storm.

“Lexa,” Anya pauses. Lexa glances up with her eyes, but doesn’t move her head. “Love is not a wrong choice. You can love more than one person. You know that here,” she reaches out and taps the notebook before continuing, sliding her feet to the floor and leaning across the table to tap Lexa on her sternum. “And here. You stopped yourself from running before, don’t start again now.”

Lexa catches Anya’s hand and rubs her thumb across her knuckles. She wants to crawl into her sister’s lap like she would do when she was younger and just let herself feel, knowing she’ll be safe as long as she’s here, that whatever was going wrong she could figure out if she just had time and Anya with her. 

“Can I stay for a little while longer?”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke is engrossed in a sketch, working through the rough outline and composition for an idea she has for a painting. She’s been focused on it all morning, burying herself in the process as soon as the morning commotion calmed down. First, bent over the work table in her studio and now, curled up on the corner of the couch.

Progress is slow.

She should have allowed herself at least the morning off, spent time beyond breakfast with Octavia, but she'd woken up with an image in her head she didn’t want to lose and held off as long as she could. It had been a while since she’d felt inspired to create and she didn’t want to ruin it by ignoring the impulse

Octavia and Raven are going running this afternoon, first the track for testing Raven’s new leg, then the trail for the real run. Well as soon as they leave, they’ve been upstairs for the better part of an hour hanging out. 

Footsteps and voices sound on the staircase signaling their descent.

“We’ll be back before Lexa, probably.” Octavia announces as she hits the bottom of the stairs, crossing the room to put on her running shoes.

Clarke doesn’t look up from her sketch. “Lexa texted and said she'd pick up dinner, anything you two want for movie night?” 

“Does she think she’ll be out of the office in time? I thought she had court.”

Clarke shrugs, “All I know is she offered to pick up dinner.”

“What about sushi?” Raven asks. She isn’t sure if staying is the right choice, but she knows she gains nothing by going home to an empty apartment except restraint from acting on her feelings. Distance makes it easier to keep her feelings in check but the last thing she wants to do is alienate her friends when she needs them. She can turn these feelings in her heart around given time.

“Sounds good, I’ll let her know.” Clarke says, only half paying attention, more fixated on her work than the conversation. She sticks her pencil in the bun of her hair and reaches over the back of the couch toward Octavia, grabbing her hand and bringing it over for a kiss.

Raven clears her throat, “Clarke?”

Clarke brings the hand away from her mouth and looks down at it, then up at Raven. “You are not my girlfriend.”

“No, I’m not,” Raven smiles down at Clarke, amused, but her heart is pounding in her chest. First Lexa in the bar, and now this, and Clarke hasn’t let go of her hand, even though her cheeks are red with embarrassment.

Octavia whistles, as she crosses the room, clearly amused at their embarrassment. She kneels on the edge of the couch for a moment with a gleam in her eye before tackling Clarke down onto the cushions, her fingers searching out Clarke’s sides. “I know she’s hot, but I’m right here.”

“I know!” Clarke shrieks trying to press into the couch and away from Octavia’s attack. “I thought you were standing behind me!” Her sketchpad flies to the floor and they’re laughing and flailing, Octavia relentless in her teasing.

Raven takes a step back from the couch, her heart in her throat. Half of her wishes the moment had been real, half of her has her heart twisting with happiness for her friends, and she knows she could never come between them especially as laughter fades into a soft kiss. Raven rubs the spot on her hand where Clarke kissed it, still able to feel her lips and tries to shove the feeling of her breaking heart into a box.

“Are we going to run or are you going to spend all day kissing Clarke?” Raven calls as she walks toward the door.

She hears a muffled, “That doesn’t sound so bad,” followed by a thump as Octavia hits the floor.

“She’s all yours,” Clarke laughs as she retrieves her notebook and sits up. She catches Raven eye over the back of the couch and they stare at each other a moment longer than they need to, Raven wondering what feeling that love would be like, Clarke wondering when it started feeling so right to have Raven here.

##  _______________________________________

 

Everyone is home and the sun hasn’t set completely yet. It shouldn’t feel like a small miracle, but it does. While Octavia and Raven were out running, Clarke set up the living room for movie night. The coffee table moved up against the wall underneath the TV to accommodate a pile of pillows and blankets ready for them to fall into. The blinds are drawn to keep out the extra light. Clarke has a stockpile of water bottles and soda underneath the table - they’ve learned the hard way that open glasses and pillows on the floor don’t mix. Lexa is setting up dinner - sushi, tempura, and edamame from their favorite place. Octavia is crashed on the couch mumbling about how she can’t move because Raven insisted on a longer run than normal today.

They’re just waiting for Raven to be done in the shower and then it’s movie time.

It’s comfortable and domestic and yet it still feels like things are shifting, that something has changed. Something unsettled. Raven is in turn comfortable and open, and suddenly closed off, joking then on the offensive. Lexa is much the same, physically close but there’s something she isn’t talking about yet. And still, Clarke can sense that life is coming together and this is how it should be. Wednesday night, good food, friends, a movie, and way too many pillows. Not that you can ever really have too many pillows.

“Clarke,” Octavia calls her name in a sing song, clearly wanting something. 

Clarke turns and takes half a step toward her, popping a piece of edamame into her mouth. 

“Will you make me a plate?” She juts out her bottom lip.

“It’s like four feet away, O.” Clarke laughs.

“I know, but,” Octavia lifts her arms and grunts with fake effort to get up, pouting again.

Clarke laughs and crosses the living room, unable to contain her amusement at her girlfriend’s aches and antics. She nudges her over on the couch, settling down beside her. Octavia’s arm wraps around her waist. Clarke props her head up on her hand, her other hand resting on Octavia’s stomach. She rests, watching Octavia, feeling her warmth, enjoying the moment. 

She’s staring at green eyes she knows the patterns of, the sharp jut of Octavia’s jaw is something she can read like a book. The way her eyes narrow and then relax coupled with the soft pout belays how tired Octavia really is. Sweet lavender fills Clarke’s senses, clinging to Octavia’s freshly washed skin and still damp hair. Clarke’s heart thuds slow and heavy and content in her chest and she chews on her bottom lip because she can’t stop smiling.

“What?” Octavia whispers.

“You’re cute when you’re tired,” Clarke whispers, her lips brushing against Octavia’s cheek. She nuzzles her nose against her girlfriend’s ear and presses a kiss there. “Love you.”

“You too, will you get me food?”

“No, but I’ll move you closer to the food.” Clarke grins.

“No no no, do not.” Octavia presses at Clarke’s arms feebly as she wraps them around Octavia’s waist. “Leeeexaaaaa.”

Lexa turns to look back at her girlfriends, an eyebrow raised in question.

Clarke shifts onto her back, tugging Octavia with her so they’re perched precariously on the edge of the couch.

“Don’t let her do it,” Octavia pleads, laughing.

“It seems you got yourself into this predicament.” Lexa smiles slowly. “What do I get for getting you out of it?”

“One.” Clarke wiggles back and forth testing their balance.

“Anything!”

Clarke shoots her a look. “Two.”

“Haven’t you learned not to play your big cards first? Because you know you’re giving me carte blanche.”

“Two and a half…” Clarke giggles. Her fingers dig into Octavia’s sides as she starts tickling her.

“Yes! Anything!”

Lexa moves swiftly across the room, managing to jump over Clarke and Octavia and land in the narrow space on the couch next to them.

“Three!”

Lexa reaches for the girls and Clarke twists away from her, Octavia grabs her hand and the three of them tumble to the ground, landing in a heap of pillows and tangled limbs. Clarke groans. Elbows are in sides and no one is sure where they end and the others begin.

The bathroom door opens and Lexa looks up, startled.

Clarke laughs as Octavia mock chastises her. Peppering kisses across her face with each sharp rebuke.

“Do I even want to know?” Raven tilts her head to the side and watches for a moment wishing the scene didn’t make her ache with longing.

“Octavia was too lazy to get her own food.” Lexa shrugs slightly as if that is a sufficient explanation and smiles at Raven, as soon as their eyes meet she glances away. Too many feelings are riding close to the surface tonight.

Untangling herself Lexa moves towards the table, as if to fix a plate for herself, but she can’t help but feel conflicted laying there with her girlfriends while the girl she has feelings for enters the room. She doesn’t mean to stare, it’s not like she hasn’t seen Raven post-shower before, hair still damp but loosely pulled back, leaning on her crutches as she juggles her running clothes, prosthetic and toiletries. Lexa looks away before she meets Raven’s eyes, knowing that once she does she won’t be able to hold her feelings down. It’s easier to divert her focus than deal with them.

Still, she watches Raven out of the corner of her eye, how she moves slowly, laying her things in a pile outside the bathroom, not wanting to bother to move them further than that right now. Lexa wants to help her get her things organized and put away so she’s ready to go when the movie is over but she doesn’t know if she’s ready to be that close to Raven again just yet. Either she or Octavia will need to give Raven a ride home. Lexa knows better than to go down that road and fully plans to feign sleep before the movie is over. She feels guilty and almost makes to excuse herself upstairs for the night, stopping the charade before it starts. Of course, leaving early would look bad. Raven would know exactly why she left.

First plate of sushi in hand she settles down into the pillows next to Clarke, tossing her leg over Clarke’s so they’re hip to hip. Clarke settles a blanket across their laps. Lexa’s attention already turned back to Raven as she makes her way to the table full of sushi.

Clarke watches Lexa watching Raven. She knows that look on Lexa’s face, the soft reverence as green eyes track movement, the soft part of her lips as she forgets to breath. It’s the same way Lexa looks at her and Octavia when she thinks they aren’t watching. Her heart is sitting there open and ready for anyone who only looks to read the truth written in it.

Clarke doesn’t know what to make of it. The thought catches in her throat, not knowing what this would mean for them. She nudges Octavia, looking to Lexa and then to Raven and back. Octavia follows her gaze but her only response is to shrug.

It isn’t hard for Clarke to see at all, especially as Lexa’s expression changes the moment Raven turns around. The way Lexa looks away and replaces adoration with a calm pleasantness. It’s not the mask of the stoic marble carved greek goddess staring them down that they met two years ago, but it’s a mask all the same.

Octavia reaches up for Raven’s hand to help steady her, but as Raven looks down she sees the glint in Octavia’s eyes. She doesn’t have time to protest before Octavia has set aside Raven’s plate and helped her to the ground, but she doesn’t let go of Raven’s hand, instead bringing it to her lips for a kiss accompanied by a smirk and a wink.

Raven blushes furiously as her heart starts pounding. Being just friends has turned into a slippery slope to breaking her own heart but she has no choice. It’s just a stupid kiss on the hand, not even meant for her benefit. Still, she wants it to be more.

“You blush more than Clarke, though I didn’t make you blush nearly this much as Clarke.” Octavia laughs and releases Raven.

Raven smacks Octavia with one of the smaller pillows. “Yeah, because she thought I was you.”

Clarke groans and nestles down into the blankets and pillows, pouting. “It was an accident.”

“You liked it.” Octavia smacks Raven with a pillow.

Lexa nudges Clarke in the side with her elbow, her mind is working overtime, wondering what happened.  “When was all this kissing, and where was I?” She keeps her tone light, catching on to Octavia’s teasing.

“At work,” Octavia says around a bite of sushi.

“I was drawing and grabbed O’s hand, except it wasn’t her hand it was Raven’s. Which clearly O found hilarious.” Clarke is nearly horizontal on the floor trying to writhe away from eyes and embarrassment eating at her. She almost feels like she’s protesting too much.

“It was cute, besides, she is really pretty, I mean I see how you could get confused.” Octavia leans over and presses a kiss to the blanket over the top of Clarke’s head, oblivious to the look Lexa and Raven are sharing across her as she tries to coax Clarke back out so they can start the movie.

“So close to an actual compliment, O,” Raven shoves Octavia playfully. She leans on Octavia holding her down on top of Clarke, but she’s looking up at Lexa.

Lexa can’t bring herself to look away having found her eyes locked with Raven’s. Her heart pounds in her chest, working its way up to her throat at the sight of the three of them in a pile of the floor. All she can think of is how Raven’s eyes looked up close, thin gold and copper veins running through warm brown filled with trepidation. With that comes the memory of being pressed up against Raven and everything her heart has felt since the realization that she was falling for her.

She does the only thing she can, she swallows thickly and puts back on the mask she hasn’t had to use to hide her feelings for more than a year. Lexa turns her attention to Clarke, tugging the blanket down, kissing her cheek, focusing her energy on teasing Clarke, because at least with that they can ignore the elephant in the room even as they crash into it blindly.

Lexa misses the way Raven looks away as she sits up, chewing on her lip, breathing down the ache she feels. Raven knows what happened Friday night was mutual. It wasn’t one of them nearly kissing the other, it was both of them, coming together, but Raven knows that Lexa will never feel for her the way she does for Lexa. If anything, Lexa was drunk, reacting to a lustful impulse spurred on by their sudden proximity. As much as she wants to be she isn’t loved, not in the way she wants to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	23. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 2 | 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and slowly we inch towards the girls being together.

Octavia barely slept that night after she got back from driving Raven home. Lexa had been curled up in the guest room and Clarke was closed in her studio. The California King felt vast and cold and empty. For a while she’d stood in the open doorway of the guest room watching the gentle rise and fall of Lexa’s breath but she didn’t have it in her to slip into bed beside her, ask if it’s okay.

Sleep didn’t come easy alone in their bed.

She is the first awake that morning, Clarke is still passed out, a smudge of purple paint streaked across her cheek and nose, completely peaceful and unaware of the inner turmoil Octavia faces. It’s like they’ve gone back to the beginning when Octavia couldn’t hold onto her feelings for Lexa and she nearly tore their relationship apart trying to figure out what to do.

Except things aren’t that bad yet. 

And she doesn’t want that yet to become reality.

Raven is their friend, probably one of their closest friends, and she’s been spending a lot of time with them recently. The fourth girl has been an almost permanent fixture in their house since her ex broke into her apartment. They care about her, certainly, love her and having her around… but Octavia is trying not to think about how it’s as if something happened between Raven and Lexa that changed everything.

She barely notices when Lexa enters the kitchen, only looks up when Lexa slides in front of her, eyes weary and hair still tousled from sleep. 

Lexa sets Octavia’s coffee on the counter and leans between Octavia’s knees against the counter but not yet touching her.

“You didn’t come in last night.” Lexa says softly, she lays her hands gently on Octavia’s thighs.

“You were awake,” Octavia tries to keep the hurt out of her voice.

The kitchen is still dark, the only light trickles in from the living room windows and the dark grey pre-dawn light. Everything is quiet, but the occasional noise from the coffeemaker. Lexa traces Octavia’s face with her fingertips.

“We’re in this together… right?” Octavia looks up from where she’s been fixated on her lap, holding back the impulse to confront Lexa about whatever happened to change things last night, but she can’t wait any longer to figure out where Lexa stands on their relationship. “You, me, and Clarke. Every time things get tough we remind each other that we’re in this  _ together _ that we aren’t alone, that we  _ love _ each other.”

Lexa trembles, “Have I made you feel unloved, Octavia?” 

Octavia’s answer is a small shake of her head. 

“Can I kiss you?” Lexa cups Octavia’s face in her hands. She feels the nod more than sees it, but the movement is enough for her to lean forward, gently bringing them together. Octavia’s lips are soft and firm, the kiss a singular press promising everything. Lexa can’t stop the tears that fall as she pulls back. Her very soul feels shaky because she knows the change she’s going through has not gone unnoticed however much she’s tried to hide. However much she’s tried not to hurt her girlfriends she’s done just that. She traces her fingers along the edges of Octavia’s face, tucking her hair back, twining strands around her fingers. Whatever shield she once held up against the world no longer keeps out Octavia and Clarke. “I love you.”

“Why are you pulling back from us then? What happened?” Octavia brings her hands up to rest on Lexa’s sides her fingers curling softly around the edges of her t-shirt.

Lexa closes her eyes. “I didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

“ _ What _ just happened? What aren’t you telling us?”

“Can we talk about this when we’re all home tonight?” Lexa isn’t ready, but she isn’t the only one involved. “I have to get ready for court. And I want Clarke to be here.”

Octavia reaches up to brush the tears clinging to Lexa’s eyelashes. “Together?” Octavia’s voice is breathy and she’s trying not to give into the sinking feeling in her gut.

“Together,” Lexa promises.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia finds herself sitting across from Bellamy, an empty water glass in her hand, silence dragging between them. She’s here because Raven had said Bellamy had been upset about not seeing her often, that he was harping on Lexa’s influence over her. All that did was make Octavia not want to see him more, not until he really apologized.

The deli around the corner for the precinct was neutral ground. Here, they can’tget into a fight. After talking with Lexa this morning the last thing on her mind is making amends with her brother, but she’s learning that some days we just have to deal with things so that they get dealt with.

Bellamy isn’t acting like he needs to be dealt with, he’s just acting like her big brother, and Octavia would be lying if she wasn’t confused.

“I hate that we never get to see each other anymore.” Bellamy says around a bite of his sandwich. “And that you don’t live downtown, because now we can’t just walk down the street and see each other.” He reaches for his soda and takes a drink before continuing. “Thursday night drinks used to be our thing.”

Octavia sets down her sandwich, her stomach filled with guilt and confusion. “Taking care of a house is a lot more work than we expected, but the quiet is really nice.” She did just cut off plans with Bellamy when they moved.

He had threatened Lexa though.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind helping with that.”

“I know.” Octavia takes a bite of her sandwich to try to mask the fact that she doesn’t know what to say. “Between Lexa, Clarke, and me, we’ve managed to fix most problems that have come up.” She tries not to hold her breath waiting to see what his reaction to Lexa’s name will be.

“That’s good. You and Clarke were always good at learning and improvising.” He shifts in his seat and she can tell he’s as uncomfortable as she is. They really haven’t talked in a year and the strain it’s brought on their relationship is starting to show through. 

They used to be closer. It was them against the world. Them, and Clarke… and Abby and Jake, but sometimes it was just the Blake siblings. Bellamy kept her safe at home and he was her big brother and he cared about her life and what she liked and how she did in school. She misses that.

His voice is softer, worried almost when he continues. “How are things between the three of you?” He pauses but it’s clear he hasn’t said everything on his mind. “Lexa, she hasn’t caused a problem has she? I mean, you and Clarke aren’t like you used to be.”

Octavia takes a long drink of water to keep herself from bringing up anything to do with the real nature of their relationship. “Everything with Lexa is great you know. It’s nice having another body around the house.”

“And Clarke?”

“You know how it is with her, she goes through rough patches. But it’s going to be fine. She and I, we’re good.” Octavia chooses her words carefully. There’s no need to tell him the whole truth, even when she’s only divulging half-truths.

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t, wouldn’t you?” Bellamy fixes Octavia with a look, at once piercing and concerned. “You still trust me, right?”

Octavia glances at her phone, she still has plenty of time to get back to the precinct, but she’d rather sit around there than get into this right now, because she doesn’t trust her brother any more. As much as she misses him there’s something in the way that his temper consumes him that scares her. If not on her own behalf on that of the women she loves. And that’s the problem.

“You’d know if Clarke and I were having break up level problems.” Octavia rolls her eyes. “I haven’t used my key and nicked your whiskey lately have I?” She winks and laughs and hopes it’s convincing.

Bellamy sits back in his chair and crosses his arms. She knows he isn’t quite sold yet.

“Just tell me if I need to talk to Lexa about messing things up between you two.”

Octavia checks her phone again. “You know if I needed you to do anything I’d ask, but right now I’ve got to head back to work.” She scoots her chair back and stands, not waiting for him to respond. She doesn’t want to look him in the eyes, doesn’t want to see the skepticism there. It’s hard lying to him, but it’s harder still swallowing the idea that being truthful could put the three of them in danger. 

“Talk later?” she doesn’t know why she offers. Habit, maybe.

Bellamy sighs and shrugs his shoulders as he leans forward and picks his sandwich back. “Whatever you say, Octavia.”

Octavia retreats out of the deli, stomach still aching with hunger and wishing she’d wrapped up her mostly ignored sandwich.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa paces around her small office upstairs in the house. It’s simple, a large plain desk pressed up against the windows, bookshelves line the opposite wall. She works there rarely but, it’s her space, the one place that is just hers. Here she gets to be alone and think.

She had promised Octavia they would talk when everyone was home, but before the others had arrived she had shut herself in her office. Now that Clarke and Octavia were both downstairs she’s trying to formulate her plan.

All week she’s been coming to terms with the fact that she has feelings for Raven, and with that she’s been trying to find the words to tell Clarke and Octavia. How does she tell them that she wants to be with them but she cares for Raven as well, that she wants  _ all _ of them to date her. That somehow she needs to find out if Clarke and Octavia would even entertain the idea without ruining what they already have.

Fact. They’ve never hidden their relationship from Raven. The only other person to have this privilege is Anya, and without Anya they probably wouldn’t be together.

Fact. Raven was going through hell and stepped up to be there for them and for Clarke without a second thought.

Fact. She’s a genius and funny and beautiful… okay perhaps that last is a bit subjective.

Fact. She’s a better cook than Clarke. That might be a low blow and best not to bring that up when she’s trying to win points with her girlfriends.

Fact. Raven breathes light into their lives with every breath. She’s sunshine on even the darkest days. And it’s evident that she relates to each of them individually. She isn’t their friend, a friend of the group. To each of them she’s their own Raven. 

Lexa spins on the spot and resists the urge to sink to the ground. She’s put together her argument for why Raven, but really if the others are on the same page as her she shouldn’t have to argue this out. She feels a deep connection to Raven, it’s that simple. She’ll never be as close as Clarke and Octavia, they’ve had an entire lifetime to learn each other. If they became intimate with Raven she would have a chance at something equal. Lexa sighs. She has to be careful not to insinuate that she thinks of her relationship with Clarke and Octavia as less, or unfulfilling because it isn’t.

Lexa collapses into her office chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands. She’s afraid there’s no way to get through this without tears from someone. There’s no putting it off though, she’s made a promise and she can’t break it. She can’t keep Octavia waiting.

Lexa glances up at her laptop and runs her finger across the trackpad to wake it. They should have already eaten dinner by now, it’s nearly eight-thirty and all of them need an early night to get through their Fridays. She can’t put this off any longer. Evening out her breath she stretches her neck and clears her head like she does before court. Her main goal is to get through tonight while hurting the fewest number of people possible. If they can get to bed tonight and she is the only one aching maybe she’ll be able to sleep okay.

It’s quiet downstairs. Octavia has her headphones in while she plays the new Assassins Creed and Clarke is spread out on the floor with her laptop, sketchpad, and drawing tablet. Lexa almost turns around to go back upstairs, not wanting to disturb the peace and feeling guilty that she’s experiencing feelings in such a way that she might ruin what they have. Because this is bliss. Just being able to calmly co-habitate, not always needing each other, but enjoying just existing together in the moments in-between them needing each other.

Clarke looks up from her drawing and meets Lexa’s eyes. “You came down.” Her voice has a hint of surprise in it but she smiles brightly. There’s something in the way she looks at Lexa that lets her know that Octavia talked to Clarke about that morning’s conversation. 

It’s only fair, she reminds herself.

“We were talking about just ordering pizza for dinner, does that work?” Octavia asks as she pulls off her headphones and turns around to lay her cheek against the top of the couch.

“Sure.” Lexa chews on the inside of her lip. As soon as she notices the habit she stops. “I wanted to have that conversation I promised you this morning. Do you want to put in our usual and we can start while we wait?” Lexa stands up straighter, resisting the urge to shift around as she watches realization dawn on Octavia.

Octavia keeps her voice level, “Yeah, we can do that.”

Her stomach is doing flip flops. The feeling is almost as overwhelming to her as whenever the half-in half-out of the closet debacle comes up. For now, things on that front are at a standstill, but there’s hope for progression. There’s something in Lexa’s demeanor that doesn’t feel like that disagreement. Lexa is nervous and fluttery in a way Octavia has never seen her before. She watches her girlfriend disappear into the kitchen without another word. When she hears water running she turns to Clarke.

“I still have no idea what has been bothering her,” Octavia whispers to Clarke as she sinks back down onto the couch.

Clarke closes her laptop and scoots across the floor to lean her chin against Octavia’s knees. “Hey,” she whispers. “This is Lexa. We love her. We trust her.”

“You’re right,” Octavia pushes out a long breath and slips to the floor next to Clarke. She reaches for Clarke’s laptop and pulls up the pizza website, zipping through their usual order.

Lexa returns with three glasses of water and an impassive expression on her face.

Clarke glances to Octavia, their eyes meeting for just a moment. There’s a brief flicker of fear that runs through her but she squashes it down as Lexa approaches. So far there is no indication that they should worry. She smiles quickly at Octavia before shifting to help Lexa with the water as she settles down.

They’re each on one side of the coffee table now. Clarke hands out pillows to sit on or lean against.

Lexa knows there is no right way to go as she perches atop the oversized floor pillow, biding her time. Honesty is of utmost importance. She leans forward and presses her hands flat on the table, gathering her thoughts one last time. 

Time to rip off the bandaid.

“Would you both agree that Raven has been spending a lot of time here recently and that you’ve both enjoyed her presence?” Lexa begins. She wants to set precedent that they’re all on the same page about Raven being around.

“Yeah, of course,” Octavia replies quickly, but she sounds skeptical.

Clarke tilts her head to the side, “It’s wonderful having her around. I owe her a lot. Besides it makes all of this,” she gestures to the three of them, “Feel normal, but what does that have to do with what’s bothering you?”

Lexa nods slowly, her heart in her throat, knowing that this is the breaking point. “How would you feel if we thought about considering her as more than just a friend?” She refuses to let her gaze drop, not out of pride, but out of a need to take on whatever her girls give to her in response, whether that be anger or pain or love. “I think it’s safe to say that we all care for her deeply, and –” Lexa stops herself, not quite certain where she wants to take things next as she had expected to be interrupted by an outburst. Both Clarke and Octavia are silent.

Octavia stares at Clarke grim-faced, waiting for her reaction. In her head replays the screaming and slamming of dresser drawers that followed Octavia suggesting they try to date Lexa to save their relationship. She remembers the pain and the guilt she harbored, knowing that she risked sacrificing everything over the certainty of breaking her own heart. While it had worked out then, she considers their situation luck and hard work long after the fact. So she waits for the anger and pain to roll of Clarke once more. She is only vaguely conscious of the fact that Lexa has nestled up to an admission of feelings for Raven.

The room is quiet, only the whir of electricity cutting through the vast stretch of silence. 

Clarke is contemplating her hands in her lap. Part of her, deep down, had known that Lexa’s retreat into herself this past week had to do with her feelings, but she hadn’t expected the nature of them. It felt similar to the panic that had overtaken Lexa after they had asked her to move in, but Clarke still feels that maybe she was right in telling Octavia they didn’t have reason to worry. Even as her heart aches with the idea that Lexa has been feeling out of sorts in their relationship in some way, she needs to hear from Lexa where she stands before Clarke can decide how she feels about the proposition. Lexa had said  _ we _ not  _ I _ . This wasn’t goodbye.

Clarke reaches out and curls her fingers around Lexa’s, holding her hand loosely. When their eyes meet Clarke watches the green stone of Lexa’s melt into mossy uncertainty. She squeezes her hand. “What happened that made you want to talk about this?” she asks softly, almost afraid to ask, but needing to hear it.

Lexa nods, her throat tight and parched. She glances to Octavia whose fear has turned to wonder and confusion. “Our relationship is wonderful, and the two of you connect in a way I never will with you...and that’s okay,” the words start to tumble out.

“I–” Lexa swallows and tries to unstick the words from the roof of her mouth before remembering she has a glass of water. “I realized on Friday night at the bar.” Her hand twitches in Clarke’s and she resists pulling it away. “I was looking at her and that guy started to come over and without warning there were these feelings, things I only ever feel for the two of you…” Lexa lets her voice trail off, guilt overriding her desire to explain herself. It feels as if she’s trying to make excuses, as if she’s cheated on them simply by being honest about the state of her heart.

“I love you both so much,” Lexa starts. “I wouldn’t be me again without you.”

Octavia reaches out toward Lexa but drops her hand to the table where she drums her fingertips. “We love you too.” She pauses, Clarke affirms her words. She looks to Clarke, knowing that all she sees is a gentle love radiating from her, and not knowing at all how her girlfriend feels. Or how her reaction can be so different this time.

“Are you suggesting we date Raven in the same way that we are together?” Octavia tries to clamp down on her feelings, not sure where she stands yet. On one hand Raven is one of her closest friends, but on the other she’s never once considered her as anything more. Then again, the only people she’s ever truly considered in a romantic or sexual nature has been Lincoln, Clarke, and Lexa. She cared for them all first, it wouldn’t be a stretch for feelings to develop. Octavia decides to hear Lexa out but there’s an unease in her stomach.

“I’m asking that we discuss it,” Lexa explains. “I realize that while I may have more than platonic feelings for Raven, the two of you might not.” She pulls her hand back and hides it in her lap to hide the trembling.

Clarke chews on her bottom lip, not knowing what to ask next, or what to say. In her chest is a cavernous ache. “Are you unhappy at all… with us?” she regrets the question as soon as it is past her lips.

Tears spring into Lexa’s eyes but they don’t fall, leaving her glassy-eyed and frozen, as if even the slightest movement would cause them to spill. She shakes her head left to right slowly and two tear drops spill down her cheeks. Clarke and Octavia almost miss the whispered  _ no _ it’s so quiet.

“Has anything happened between you?” Octavia keeps her voice even, and wonders how much of this unsteadiness she feels Clarke felt all those months ago.

Lexa’s head snaps up, “No! And no.” She wipes at her eyes and streaks mascara and eyeliner across her temples. “I don’t even know if Raven knows how I feel. And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my entire life than I am with the two of you.” Her shoulders slump because their response to her admission has been trepidacious at best. “Whatever we decide with this conversation I want you to know that it is my wish to remain firmly ensconced in this relationship. I love you both too much to consider leaving, but I couldn’t go on keeping silent about how I felt. After everything we’ve been through I wanted to be honest.” Lexa pauses and breathes out. “You’ve taught me that love doesn’t always look like what we’re led to expect it to. I’m just asking us to consider the idea.” 

Lexa takes a long drink of water, finishing off the glass. Her throat is tight with emotion but at least she’s said her piece.

Octavia nods. Lexa is being level headed and reasonable about this, almost too reasonable for something tied up in so much emotion. It’s entirely different from how she handled it when she was trying to warm Clarke up to the idea of dating Lexa. Still, she wonders how she missed that this was coming, how she didn’t see that Lexa has been tortured and afraid over this when she lived through the same anguish not two years ago.

She scoots along the edge of the table and reaches out to place her hand on Lexa’s arm. She squeezes it gently. “I need time to think.”

“Me, too,” Clarke says softly before leaning over to kiss Lexa’s cheek.

“Of course, I woul-”

The doorbell rings. Pizza.

Octavia rushes to the door to rescue their pizza from the delivery person.

Clarke moves closer to Lexa. She runs her fingertips across Lexa’s face, smoothing down the worry lines creeping across her brow and tucking stray hairs behind her ear. There have been few times she’s seen Lexa this guarded but evidently in pain. Each time they’ve all made it through because they did it together.

“We love you,” Clarke’s lips brush against Lexa’s ear as she whispers the words.

Lexa nods but doesn’t trust herself to speak.

Dinner is quiet. It’s late and everyone’s mind is full with the proposition of Raven. Octavia tries to joke and distract them but it’s all too heavy and real and full of possibility because no matter what they decide everything has changed. There’s no going back. Lexa barely eats, just a few bites and she cleans her hands before she settles down at the piano. Octavia eats more than her normal share and Clarke picks at hers. The two share looks over pepperoni and veggies as Lexa plays the piano. They need to talk. None of them will be able to sleep until they do.

Lexa’s uncertainty is mirrored in her playing. Melancholic songs spliced together when she forgets a melody or loses the thread, not at all her normal playing style. Most of the time she melds songs together so no one can tell that it isn’t supposed to flow like that. Her fingers slip, hitting wrong notes, sometimes coming down too hard on the keys. And still, she’s lost in it.

Clarke and Octavia sneak upstairs not wanting to interrupt her, but needing to talk one on one before they bring up Raven with Lexa. They both hope Lexa comes to bed before too late. The simple uncertainty in her playing is heartbreaking.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s late. Far too late for a night they all have to work in the morning and Lexa is still playing piano downstairs. The longer discordant chords hit and tumble together the more it becomes evident that Lexa is aching.

Octavia rolls over and lays her arm across Clarke’s stomach. They’re still on top of the comforter, exhausted but not wanting to go to bed until Lexa is with them. They’ve been talking about Raven since their feet hit the stairs.

She’s their friend and they care for her.

She’s beautiful.

There would be a hole in their lives if she weren’t there anymore.

Her safety and happiness matters a lot to them.

Simple, truthful facts that they could apply to most of their friends. There is a difference though in caring for someone and having feelings for them. Loving someone is not being in love with them. The last thing they want to do is hurt Raven more than she has already been hurt in this life.

Octavia is wary that she may not be able to feel that way for Raven. Clarke is wondering if part of her already does. They debate about the perceived need for equality in the relationships. There are four of them, that’s six pair dynamics. And Lexa’s already made the most astute argument: they will never relate to each other in the same ways, but that doesn’t make any part of their relationship less.

They’re allowed different dynamics.

“Clarke?” Her voice is small and tired.

Clarke hums a response.

“Do you really think we could do this?”

“If we all wanted to, yes.” Clarke turns her head to look at Octavia. “Do you?”

Octavia frowns as she thinks. “I want us  _ all _ to be happy… And Lexa has it in her head that her heart will break if she doesn’t at least try with Raven… I know what that feels like.” She scoots closer to Clarke, hooking one leg over Clarke’s and pressing her face to her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

Clarke runs her fingers through Octavia’s hair, “Shhhhh… it worked out for the best. Love is unpredictable sometimes.” She kisses Octavia’s forehead and they lay like that for a while in silence. “You still haven’t said what you want, not really.”

Octavia lifts her head and looks down at Clarke, “I want to give Lexa the same chance you gave me.” She meets Clarke’s eyes asking for forgiveness, asking that this not be too much for Clarke as her gut twists in fear that it will be.

A soft smile breaks across Clarke’s face, “I was hoping you would say that.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa stops playing. Her fingers ache and she feels no more at ease than when she sat down. The piano usually quiets her thoughts, her hands sure and steady as her mind goes blank. But not tonight. Tonight she couldn’t breathe past the lump in her throat. She feels exposed and raw and everything she refuses to be. She feels weak.

She doesn’t hear Octavia come down the stairs, doesn’t feel her presence until thin muscular arms wrap around her shoulders and lips press to the soft bit of skin behind her ear. For a moment Octavia stays still, just holding Lexa, her breath no more than warm puffs against Lexa’s neck.

“Come to bed.”

It’s a plea.

Lexa leans back against Octavia, basking in the security of being held. She’s nervous, still not sure if her girls will be willing to try or not, and completely unsure of how she will feel if they are unwilling. At least it seems they aren’t angry with her. Octavia’s arms around her almost feel like acceptance.

Octavia presses her nose to Lexa’s head and kisses the top of her skull, “Clarke and I talked about Raven.” 

“Yeah?” Lexa’s voice is so soft as to be almost unheard.

“We want you to come to bed so we can talk.”

She tugs at Lexa, asking without words to come upstairs. Lexa complies, her hand finding it’s way into Octavia’s as they move toward bed, turning off the lights, checking the lock on the door, everything in place for the morning.

Their bedroom is dimly lit, only the bedside lamps turned on. The bed has been turned down and Clarke is sitting cross legged in the middle, hunched over her phone, already in her sleep shirt. She looks up and smiles as the other two enter but makes no movement otherwise. Lexa and Octavia move silently as they wash and change, the air heavy with everything still left to say.

Clarke tugs Lexa onto the bed and she comes willingly, crawling toward the middle of the bed. Octavia follows soon after, sitting next to her.

Things haven’t been this awkward since the first time the three of them tried to have sex.

“So… Raven,” Clarke starts lamely. She can’t stop thinking about how she had yelled at Octavia for suggesting polyamory and now she’s willfully considering opening their relationship further.

Lexa twists her hands together in her lap and wonders how they start this. She feels like she has a sentence hanging over her head.

“Do you want to talk to her first?” Octavia asks. “Raven that is.”

“All three of us might be overwhelming… but this wouldn’t be Raven’s first time with multiple partners so maybe not.” Clarke tries to catch Lexa’s attention with an encouraging smile but she never does. “We could be there too if you want, but we think it would be good if the proposal came from you.”

Lexa looks up slowly, disbelief marking her face. She doesn’t quite believe that they’re saying yes. Clarke is smiling at her all at once amused and soft. Octavia’s smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but the trademark quirk of her lips is genuine. It almost seems too easy that they’re all on the same page. 

Her heart beats in her chest like a wild thing. Even as she hoped she didn’t believe that they would say yes, mentally preparing herself to let go of her feelings, wishing against wish that they would fade as quickly as she realized them, and knowing that they never would.

“Do you mean that you’re both willing to see what happens if we try to date Raven?” Lexa looks to the both of them before focusing again on the comforter in front of her crossed ankles. She sucks in quick, shallow breaths. Realizing that having been given permission she is suddenly terrified that Raven will want nothing to do with the idea, or them.

“Yes.” Clarke’s answer comes swift and certain.

“I want you to have the same chance Clarke gave me, with you.”

Lexa doesn’t miss that Octavia skips over actually agreeing that she wants this. That alone makes her look up again, worry constricting her throat and tightening around her heart. She can’t do this if they aren’t all in it together.

“But what do  _ you _ want, O?”

“I want us to be happy together,” she gives a gallic shrug that means everything and nothing.

“I am happy with us, Octavia. Please don’t doubt that.” Lexa nudges Octavia’s knee hoping to see her smile. Her heart drops into her stomach when Octavia turns a serious face to her.

“I- I don’t, but seeing if maybe Raven would want to be our fourth would make you happy.”

“Yes,” Lexa pauses knowing there’s more that Octavia isn’t saying, whether she means to or not. “But I’m asking if dating Raven is something that could make you happy.”

It’s Octavia’s turn to look away. She picks at the skin around her nails, not knowing how to answer. How does she explain this fear in her gut that no matter how much she loves Raven as a friend she may never want more than friendship from her. Or that she’s afraid she will never be comfortable bringing Raven into their bed unless she does feel more for her. But all those words fall flat on her tongue, only manifesting in surges of emotion she can’t quite pin down.

“She’s my friend.”

“I was your friend too, before we got together.”

“You were… you.” Octavia says, exasperated. “It was never a question.”

Clarke lays down in front of Lexa and rests her head in Octavia’s lap, her hand resting on Octavia’s knee, drawing small circles. “We haven’t talked a lot about how you feel attraction, not since high school.”

Octavia shakes her head. Kids had made fun of her for never dating, but she didn’t  _ want _ to date anybody, barely wanted to kiss those that she had kissed. It made her feel sick. And then there was Lincoln and one day when he smiled at her she had finally understood what everyone else was going on about, the butterflies, the desire. It was overwhelming and she knew she didn’t want to question it. Things had ended between them, and Octavia had gone back to not wanting anyone. Missing sex, but not finding anyone she wanted. Then she had looked at Clarke, her mouth half full of popcorn, wearing nothing but sweats, her hair a complete mess, and she’d been hit with that feeling again.

She has no control over it.

Lexa looks from Octavia to Clarke and back. “Talk to me about it? So I understand,” Lexa asks softly. “I don’t want us to do anything that would make any of us uncomfortable.”

“I don’t crush on people, I don’t  _ want _ people, unless I do. And if I do,  _ I really do _ .” Octavia falls back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. Tears prick her eyes. She hasn’t felt less adequate about her sexuality in a very long time. 

Lexa breathes out slowly, suddenly Octavia’s reaction makes more sense. “What happened to change that with me?”

“You smiled at me one morning over burned coffee and winked,” Octavia huffs because it’s no explanation at all but it’s all she knows to say.

Clarke snorts and tries to keep herself from laughing. Octavia bounces her legs to annoy Clarke but it doesn’t. She just presses a kiss to her thigh.

“I’ve seen lots of men and women flirt with you.”

Octavia waves her hands in the air, exasperated that she doesn’t have the words, “It didn’t matter when they did.”

Lexa wants to reach out for her girlfriends but she doesn’t know if she should. There’s something she already felt the truth about in what Octavia said, but she had never questioned it before. Octavia wanted her and Clarke and they were together so that was all that had ever mattered. She pulls her knees to her chest and rests her cheek there.

“Does the idea of being with Raven make you uncomfortable?” Lexa knows if Octavia says it does she has to put a stop to all of this now. They’ll recover and move on.

“I don’t know,” Octavia whispers. “What if we try and things are good between the three of you but I can’t find a way to love her in that way?”

“Would that bother you? If we were with her, but you weren’t?” Clarke looks up at Octavia and rolls over onto her stomach to watch her reaction. She reaches out for her hand and twines their fingers. She realizes for the first time that having different dynamics would maybe mean varying levels of intimacy. Still, she can’t imagine bringing Raven to their bed and not sharing her with Octavia sometimes.

“Maybe.” Octavia squeezes Clarke’s hand. “How are you so calm everything this time… when I tried to suggest we date Lexa you… I feel like I broke something in you.” She swallows down a wall of guilt and looks away trying not to cry.

“It’s different this time,” Clarke sits up hastily to look down at Octavia. She glances to Lexa and reaches out a hand to thread their fingers together, their start had been rocky but she wouldn’t change it for anything. “ _ I’m  _ different.”

Octavia looks up at Clarke through damp lashes.

“First you showed me that it’s possible to be in love with more than one person. You gave me that. And second, Raven is one of our best friends… if she hadn’t of talked to me again about mental health and therapy… I really don’t know where I’d be.” She feels Lexa sink down next to her and she knows she still has a lot to make up for. 

“Lex,” Clarke starts, “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear that you were just trying to help me, that it took someone else telling me exactly what you told me for me to decide, but how Raven  _ understood _ was different. I needed that.”

“I know,” Lexa says softly. She can’t imagine them having been able to start to put their life together again so quickly without Raven.

“It’s just, Raven’s been there for us, all of us, and she hasn’t had to be.” Clarke nudges Octavia. “I’m sorry I couldn’t give you the same rational response, but you did kind of suggest we date an almost-stranger, at least to me.” She teases. “I’m glad you did though.”

“I know.  _ I know _ .” Octavia breathes out. The situations were similar but also, vastly different. “I want us to try, with Raven. I would be lying if there haven’t been flares of moments of…  _ something _ .” She rubs her free hand across her face and tries not to think too hard about the night she drunkenly pulled Raven onto the couch with her and they woke up tangled together, intimately entwined. She would be lying to herself if deep down she hadn’t thought for a moment what it would be like to wake up like that more often.

Lexa presses up onto her knees, hands falling to the bed to hold her up as she leans forward. She hesitates, waiting for Octavia to look at her. She searches green eyes for unspoken worries and finds nothing more than what has already been voiced. “Thank you,” she whispers, leaning closer when Octavia doesn’t move away. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” Octavia nods and licks her lips, “Lexa?”

“Yeah?” Lexa breathes the word against her mouth.

“Thank you,” she whispers and closes the distance between them. The kiss is soft and tender as they yield into each other.

This isn’t  _ this will work _ , it’s  _ I’m willing to try even if it doesn’t _ . This is what safety and love look like. It’s listening and being honest. This is how to build a home, together, even when fear rides high, knowing that there is hope in being brave and that it’s easier to be brave with someone by your side.

##  _______________________________________

 

“You’re nearly as bad as my sister,” Anya groans as she sets a mug of green tea in front of Raven and slides across from her into the nook in her kitchen. The morning sun is bright through the floor to ceiling windows but outside it’s chill. “Does the bus even run this early?” Anya rubs sleep from her eyes.

“It’s nearly eight,” Raven laughs.

“Yes and we were asleep like sane people until you started pounding on my door.”

“We?” Raven grins and nudges Anya underneath the table. “You finally let one of them stay over?”

Anya glowers at her but it isn’t malicious, instead it’s just an annoyed squint of her eyes. She sips at her coffee to avoid answering. Raven can see the truth working around in her head and she knows it will come out if she plays her cards right. She waits, drawing an admission out of Anya is much more enjoyable than bringing up the real reason she came over before class.

“So which one is it? The sketch artists? The P.A.? The rival?-”

“I cut them all loose.” Anya says quietly. She doesn’t look up from her coffee as she answers and only looks out the windows when she shifts her gave. “I’m trying out this monogamy thing... kind of.”

“Happy?”

“I am,” Anya sounds half-surprised at the answer herself. “But I’m certain you didn’t come over here to grill me about my love life at this ungodly hour, so spill, what’s bothering you, Reyes?”

Raven takes that as her cue to look out the window at the city sprawl below. The mug of tea in her hands is warm and she wants to let the comfort of it lull her into silence. If show’s silent she doesn’t have to acknowledge the ache in her chest that she woke with and the memories she can’t let go of that drove her to Anya’s apartment before breakfast. She doesn’t know how to say anything without Anya knowing immediately all the details she’s trying to leave vague.

She knows Anya won’t say anything further until Raven starts to talk. It’s painfully infuriating but at least she won’t be rushed.

“Anyone I know?” Raven breaks the silence, jerking her head toward the hallway to indicate the mystery guest.

Anya shakes her head, “No avoiding this you owe that much since you woke me up.”

Raven can’t argue with that. “I think I’m falling for… someone, but they’ve been unavailable since we met so it doesn’t matter.”

If Anya is surprised by this she doesn’t show it. “What changed?”

“I think we almost kissed, and it wasn’t just me that wanted to, but things are… complicated.”

There’s a glint in Anya’s eyes, they crinkle at the corners and she takes a sip of coffee to try to mask a smile. Of all the reactions Raven expected Anya to have, amusement is not one of them, but Anya doesn’t say anything, she keeps her mug near her mouth and settles further into the bench. It’s as if she already knows, that the information that Raven is falling for someone is no surprise to her.

Lexa is Anya’s sister and they talk about everything.

Raven could say nothing further and Anya would know more of the story than she did. She groans and slouches. Her knee hits Anya’s under the table.

“She told you about Friday night already.” It isn’t an accusation but Raven wants to hear it straight.

“One. You’re asking me to break sacred sister secret privileges. Two. You admit you’ve got a thing for my sister after turning me down? Bold move, Reyes.” Anya winks at her and laughs.

Raven bolts upright, indignant. “It’s not like you’re all heartbroken over it,” she gestures emphatically toward Anya’s bedroom. “And it was like  _ a year _ ago,  _ Woods _ .”

The grin that breaks across Anya’s face is radiant. Warm sunshine has nothing on the look she gives Raven, who is certain she’s never seen her friend look quite so satisfied before. Even as she wants to rip her own heart out and give up the light pouring out of Anya in that moment makes her want to hold onto hope.

But who would want Raven, broken as she is. Healing, strong now that Wick is behind bars, but scared inside and out. She doesn’t feel like she could accept any love given her. After what Wick did to her she second guesses everything, even her friendships. 

Raven closes her eyes and breathes in slowly, holding her breath for a moment before she lets it out as slow as she can. There’s no reason to let herself spiral into a pit of self-loathing before breakfast, after breakfast she could re-evaluate. She knows on some level it isn’t true, that one day she’ll find someone worthwhile again, and maybe believe them when they say they love her, but that knowledge doesn’t changes the way she feels right now.

She can simultaneously feel like she’s the most badass person out there and also feel like she isn’t enough. Raven opens her eyes and focuses on the green depths of her tea. She tries not to think about how that particular shade of green highlights Lexa’s eyes. The only thing she can do right now is control how she reacts the feelings running rampant through her head.

“Where’d you go just now?” Anya’s voice is soft like she doesn’t want to startle her.

Raven hadn’t realized Anya had leaned forward until  Anya rests her hand on Raven’s arm. She stares at it, her brain trying to process. How deep does she want to get before they’re both fully awake? She steadies herself and looks up.

“Nowhere important,” she shakes off the memory of Lexa’s face inches from hers. “Just wondering what sort of gorgeous creature has managed to enchant you.” Raven teases. Anya frowns at the deflection but lets it go.

“So I’m a gorgeous creature now am I?”

Raven didn’t hear anyone join them, and from the look on Anya’s face she didn’t notice Niylah approach either, not until she was leaning across the table in little more than a loose t-shirt and reaching for Anya’s coffee.

“Fuck it’s early,” Niylah mutters. Anya holds her coffee cup just out of Niylah’s reach.

“Mine. You know where the machine is.” Anya glares at the hand in front of her face, still waiting for the cup. Niylah pouts but saunters into the kitchen and toward the Keurig.

Raven closes her mouth before Anya catches her staring, “Morning Niylah!” she calls, louder than she means to but like it’s absolutely normal to find one of their friends in Anya’s bed. She turns back to Anya, much more interested in this new development than her own spiraling thoughts. “When did this start?”

Anya shrugs and tries to fight the smile still on her lips as Niylah slides heavily into the booth next to Anya, looking bone weary and not yet even half-awake.

“Not long,” Anya admits.

Niylah rolls her eyes, “Long enough. We had to prove to our girl here that she could have a stable relationship and the world wouldn’t end.”

“We?” Raven tries to not choke on her tea, to keep the surprise out of her voice, and knows she fails. She finds her heart sinking lower in her chest first for the improper reaction and second because even Anya, who didn’t believe she would ever want a romantic relationship is smitten in the best worst way and still firmly entrenched in the honeymoon stage with multiple someone’s willing to wait for her.

Niylah looks to Anya, shocked and a bit worried, “You haven’t told her.”

“No. Things have been rough, it felt like I would have been rubbing salt in a fresh wound. Besides dating both you and Lincoln is nice, I didn’t want the drama of making some big announcement about it.” Anya turns pleading eyes on Niylah. “I didn’t want to have to explain to people our dynamic, since you and Lincoln aren’t sure if you want to be intimate.”

Raven watches this unfold, the way Anya looks to Niylah, clearly chastised and apologizing. She’s not sure she’s ever see this side of her friend before. It’s endearing, and she’s going to tease Anya about it every chance she gets.

“First you forgot to tell Lexa, who practically walked in on you and Lincoln and then again on you and me, and then you don’t even tell your best friend either?” Niylah shakes her head but Raven can tell she’s teasing as she hides a grin with a sip of coffee.

“What can I say? I liked having this be our little secret.”

“You’ve gone and turned her soft!” Raven gasps.

Anya tosses a napkin at Raven’s head, “At least I’m not the one in love with-” Anya cuts herself off.

Raven’s phone vibrates in her pocket and she jumps, slamming her knee against the table. She mutters an apology as she retrieves her phone. “Speaking of…” she sighs, all the jovialness she felt leaches out of her like receding flood waters. “I’ve got to go and take this.” She gestures at her still buzzing phone and practically runs for Anya’s front door.

“Enjoy yourselves!” she calls over her shoulder. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” she’ll probably have to explain later but something tells her Anya doesn’t need her to.

She collapses against the hallway wall just outside Anya’s apartment and answers her phone, “Hey, Lexa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	24. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 3 | 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations at the end!

Three weeks, give or take a few days. That’s how long it’s been since Clarke hit her low. It feels like another life, or someone else’s life. The pain is dull and distant and she knows it was real, but she feels like any reaction to it she has at this point is an over reaction. It couldn't possibly have been as as bad as she’s made it out be in her head if she’s okay now.

The way Lexa and Octavia tip toe around her sometimes makes her think it was real though. She hasn’t told her therapist yet, that she feels like she’s suppressed the extent of the pain. She remembers crying, feeling like she wants nothing more to do with life, but she doesn’t feel that it was really so bad. She doesn’t remember exactly how those things felt. She can… but it’s like there’s an opaque film between her and the memory.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Abby plunks down her purse on the counter at Gallery 2149 and smiles at Clarke.

A quick glance to her watch tells Clarke it’s just past the lunch hour and she has to leave soon if she’s going to be on time to her third therapy appointment. Her mother wasn’t supposed to be here today, she’s got the gallery to finish prepping. And besides that, she doesn’t have the energy for it, not when she has to continually remind herself that therapy is her decision and she’s decided to try and she has to continue to make that decision.

“I’ve just got an appointment in a few, and I’m making sure I have everything in order for tonight,” Clarke doesn’t look to Abby, she’s not ready to face her when all that’s on her mind is therapy and what she’s going to talk to Becca about. Maybe this is a good place to start: her mother and how they’re close but also very much not.

She doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to talk to Abby about what happened. Abby had no idea then what she was doing to Clarke. She was too lost in her own grief after Jake’s death, not that grief is an excuse. Clarke clenches her fist in her lap. Later, she can think about this later when she has time and not when her mother is standing right in front of her.

“What’s up? I didn’t expect to see you. I thought we were having lunch next week?” Clarke smiles and leans on the counter.

“Oh, I had errands nearby and thought I would see how you were doing. It’s been a while.” Abby probes gently.

Clarke tries not to frown. She should have known this was coming. Last time they got together Clarke was on an upswing, at the height of it almost. The time before that she had been despondent, on the verge of collapse, and inconsolable. Of course her mother would want to see if the upswing was holding.

“I’m okay, mom. Really.” Clarke tries to reassure her. “It’s just been a long month. September always is.”

Her mother is giving her that look, the one that says how she isn’t sure she believes Clarke but she doesn’t want to pry, doesn’t want to call Clarke a liar, and yet… 

That look used to be able to dismantle her. Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Can’t a mother be worried?” Abby purses her lips but her tone is light.

“Yes, you can, as long as you don’t interfere.” Dropping by randomly to check up on her was incredibly close to interfering. It’s Clarke’s turn to fix Abby with a look.

“Listen, as long as everything- as long as both your girlfriends are doing right by you, and you’re happy, then I know I don’t really have a reason to worry or be in your business… but everything is okay, isn’t it?” Abby taps her fingers on the counter and looks around as if she’s expecting someone else to be there at any moment.

“Oh my god, mom, yes, everything is okay with Octavia and Lexa.” She isn’t about to get into how the trio might become a quad. That’s still too big of a question for them to be able to address with anyone but themselves.

Abby holds up her hands in surrender, “Alright! I won’t pry.”

Clarke nods, wishing her mother meant it, wishing that if she had told the whole truth she could trust that she would have had the same reaction, that they could keep the distance between them, respectable boundaries, most importantly treating Clarke like an adult, and not someone that needs constant care.

There’s a shuffling in the back hallway and a door shuts. Kane appears in the gallery a few seconds later. He glances between Clarke and Abby as if he doesn’t know who to great first and rushes through a hello before he’s out the door to go pick up something for the show tomorrow night. 

Whatever had been building between Clarke and Abby is broken. Clarke feels like she’s escaped having to admit anything. She isn’t ready yet to tell her mother she’s in therapy, too afraid of the response. Afraid there will be anger because this is what Abby wanted years ago. Clarke knows she was just trying to help, but it wasn’t what she needed then. She’d been young and a teenager, and  _ needed _ to feel, not to stop.

Maybe one day they could talk, but that day is a long way off.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s been a week since she nearly kissed Raven at the bar, but it feels like an entire lifetime. Today alone has taken at least a year. 

September is melding into October and the first crisp cold mornings of fall are a signal that summer is finally over even if the afternoons are too warm for jackets. The change in temperature means most people have retreated inside, expecting rain at any moment, and not yet prepared to be damn for the next nine months. The switch leaves the waterfront mostly empty late on a Friday afternoon.

The sun may have been out all day but the people aren’t, though this fact makes it exceptionally easy for Lexa to spot Raven down in the alcove where they meet sometimes for lunch. She picked up dinner at one of their usual spots just down the road and texted Octavia that she would be home late. She feels bad leaving Octavia alone, as Clarke is working late tonight at the gallery, but hopefully she’ll be able to take good news, and some leftovers, home.

She’s stalling. Instead of crossing over the grassy park to her friend, she’s watching her, trying to read her before she gets there. Raven has her arms wrapped around herself and she’s swaying back and forth slightly. She looks smaller than she is, and uncertain. There’s a slump to her shoulders that isn’t normally there. Lexa makes herself stop and breathe before she rushes to Raven and throws her arms around her shoulders, afraid she won’t stop there. Not after the long discussion she had with Clarke and Octavia the night before.

They had barely slept last night, alternating talking about wants and reassurances of love long into the morning between bouts of fitful dozing.  Lexa feels confident that this is their decision and not hers alone, and she knows it will be best for all of them if she approaches Raven now before too much time passes - like ripping off an emotional bandaid. Besides, she doesn’t want to hold Octavia to another secret of this magnitude. It’s best that they find out what Raven wants so they can all get on with their lives.

Lexa tightens her grip on the take away and marches across the grass, squinting as the sun hits her eyes.  Her heart tries to escape her ribcage because Raven is here and life is strange and somehow she’s been given the chance to love three beautiful women if only they will have her. She can’t help but hope that Raven does even as she’s prepared to step back and remain friends.

“Hey,” Lexa whispers softly as she comes to stand next to Raven, not looking at her but looking out across the water with her. Their shoulders brush, and it sends an electric shock through her.

Raven looks up at Lexa feeling as emotionally strung out as lexa had sounded on the phone that morning. “Hey,” she whispers back. Her heart is in her stomach. The only reason she can imagine Lexa sounds so bone weary is over last Friday when they almost kissed.

“I brought our usual. I know you had lab today and you never eat when you’re in the lab.” Lexa holds up the plastic bag filled with containers of chow mein and sweet and sour.

Raven’s stomach rumbles because Lexa is right, but she can’t imagine eating right now or why Lexa would bring food to this conversation. Once it’s all out there she can’t imagine wanting to stay. Still, she nods and gestures for them to move to lean against the concrete barrier looking out over the river below that they use as a makeshift table.

“We didn’t talk about what happened at the bar,” Lexa says matter-o-factly. “I thought we should, because it changed things between us… all of us.”

Raven nods rapidly, “Yeah, we do.” Her stomach rolls, certain that she’s about to lose her closest friends. If Lexa needs to step back - and why else would she have talked to Anya if not to ask Anya to keep an eye on Raven after the friend break up - if Lexa needs to step back then Clarke and Octavia would be as well. No more movie nights and late dinners. No more half-days out running trails on The Gorge.

She looks over at Lexa leaning against the concrete wall. She’s less put together than on a usual work day: jeans and a modest shirt, her hair tied back in a loose, messy bun. Even in her apparent exhaustion she looks stunning. It’s her eyes though, still tinged red from a night of tears that makes Raven think this is goodbye.

“I’m sorry.”

Lexa’s head snaps up but Raven holds a hand up to keep her from interrupting.

“I should have known when you avoided me on movie night and were short in texts that the fact that I almost kissed you was bothering you. It was inappropriate - I knew it then and I didn’t stop it. I didn’t mean to ruin things between us. You’re one of my best friends and I don’t want to lose you, but you pressed me up against the bar and my brain reacted.” Raven shakes out her hands. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to chose, I didn’t mean to start falling for you either but-”

Raven stares at Lexa, horrified.  _ “Isso não é o que eu quis dizer, nenhum pouco.” _

The last thing she had meant to do today was admit real feelings. It only made matters worse that they were involved. It was bad enough to let Lexa assume that she had been swayed by alcohol fueled lust.

_ “Tô indo embora. Acabou.” _ She almost runs, not wanting to face Lexa now.

Except Lexa’s hands are on her arms holding her gently, and there’s recognition in her eyes like she’s understood Raven’s mumbled Portuguese. She could easily leave if she wanted to but Lexa’s look grounds her, asks her to stay. Lexa is trembling as much as Raven.

Raven looks up into Lexa’s eyes, too close and full of concern and something more she doesn’t want to think about, because anything more can’t happen. She can’t get her feet to move.

“Don’t go. Please. I’m glad you said it. I know what happened on Friday changed everything between us, that doesn’t mean that I don’t want it to keep changing.”

“You understood?” Raven is in shock, and she doesn’t know if it’s because Lexa followed her Portuguese or because Lexa wants her to stay.

“A tiny bit? I think?” Lexa looks sheepish. “I’m horrible at Portuguese, but it’s enough like French that I’m stumbling through learning it.”

Lexa brushes tears off Raven’s face, smudging trails of mascara. She just wants to hold Raven until this surge of fear has passed. She wants to see her friend confident instead of scared. She wants to take away the fear that’s running rampant across her face and find a way to never be the cause of it again. She takes a step closer and cups Raven’s cheek in her hand. Her heart is soaring at Raven’s admission and she’s finding it hard to resist the intimacy.

“I don’t want you to go.”

Raven shakes her head, “Lexa, we can’t.”

Lexa’s laugh is light and joyful. It startles Raven, but not as much as Lexa leaning her forehead against Raven’s.

“I’m getting things all out of order.” she shakes her head slightly and straightens up. “I’m so sorry I scared you but you have no idea how happy I am with what you said.”

Confusion creases Raven’s brow. She doesn’t want to jump to the logical conclusion. Her heart won’t let her.

“I talked to Clarke and Octavia.” Lexa lets her hands drop but catches Raven’s hand up in hers. “We talked for a long time about you, and how I felt.”

“How is it that you feel?” Raven asks, afraid to breathe.

“There’s a physical ache in my chest when I think about you, Raven. I want you in ways I feel privileged to feel with my girlfriends. I never thought I would love again and yet somehow, here I am and I’m lucky enough that the women I love want to see if one of our very close friends might feel more than friendship for us. Enough to try at least.” Lexa swings their clasped hands lightly, her heart racing but she feels so very alive for it. She knows at any moment she could have her world shattered, and yet Raven is still here, looking at her with wonder and so she has hope.

Raven can’t quite breathe right, half-wanting to burst into tears and half-wanting to grin like an idiot and half-wanting to run. Lexa doesn’t want to break up as friends. She wants to  _ date _ . Her life is no less turned upside down. What happens if it doesn’t work out? What if the trio decides they were better off as three and four is too many? Or worse what if she breaks them apart?

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Lexa pulls her into a hug. The realization only makes the tears fall harder. She feels helpless clinging to Lexa there by the river. The water drowns out the city sounds and it’s as if they’re the last people in the world for that moment. Lexa muttering soothing sounds in her ear and rubbing her hands in comforting circles on Raven’s back.

Lexa wraps her arms tighter around Raven and turns so Raven is curled against her chest as she leans against the concrete wall. She tries to calm her as best she can but Raven is in hysterics, alternately sobbing uncontrollably and not breathing at all. After a few minutes Raven wraps her arms around Lexa in return, clinging tightly to her shirt. It’s desperate as if Raven is afraid of what will happen when she lets go.

The damper Lexa’s shirt becomes the clearer it is to her that an admission of feelings from Lexa is not what Raven had expected. Raven’s near soliloquy had sounded like the beginnings of a goodbye. Lexa presses her face to Raven’s hair and hopes life never comes to that. 

“You need to breathe,” Lexa whispers against her ear. She will hold Raven as long as she wants to be held, but crying is only going to exhaust them both. She feels Raven nod against her shoulder followed by an expansion of her ribcage, she holds her breath once more, then lets it out. Again. Again.

After a few repetitions Lexa has the count, though Raven’s attempts are shaky and shattered by sobs. She brings one hand between them and places it gently over Raven’s sternum. A three-count, four-count, seven-count pattern, she taps it out with her index finger against the bone, swiping her finger sideways between each set of counts to signify the change. Raven’s skin is warm and soft beneath her hand, her heartbeat thudding and steady but slowing at last.

Lexa rocks them gently, still clinging as tightly to Raven as Raven is to her. She tries not to think about  how long it’s been since Raven was held last. She knows that Raven has always hesitated to curl up with them on movie nights, and Anya is not often physically affectionate. She tightens her grasp and tries not to think about how long Raven might have been harbouring feelings for them.

Raven is certain that if Lexa weren’t holding her, arms wrapped tightly like a safety net, that she would have fallen to the ground by now. That if it weren’t for Lexa’s palm pressed flat to her chest she wouldn’t be breathing normally again. Ease settles over her, along with the sense that this is right. Here is where she belongs. The thought terrifies her because she isn’t even certain she’s ready for a relationship, let alone one that is so complex.

Her face is pressed to Lexa’s neck, her lips against her collarbone. It’s all at once too intimate and nothing she wants to give up. Lexa smells like home, her arms feel like a safe haven. Raven’s skin tingles with each lazy swipe of Lexa’s thumb in small circles across her low back. She never wants to move. Once aching and parched for touch she drinks it in like a desert storm. She’s riding a flash flood of emotions.

When Lexa’s lips press to her temple in a nervous kiss a small sound catches in the back of her throat, part moan, part joy, part relief. Lexa’s hand tangles in her hair at the nape of her neck, cradling her head. Raven lifts her head until Lexa’s cheek is pressed to hers. Suddenly, there’s a thrumming energy between them. Their conversation, the prolonged embrace, the way Lexa’s touch is like fire on her skin. She can feel Lexa’s breathe on her ear, hot and shallow. It wouldn’t take much, just one of them to tilt their head and they could kiss.

Unlike at the bar Raven knows she could take that chance. Lexa asked her out, there’s a chance a kiss would be welcomed. This isn’t just drunken lust and Lexa wants her… and so do Clarke and Octavia - enough at least to try. It’s the thought of them that makes her pull back.

Lexa’s pupils are blown wide and Raven is certain hers are as well.

“I want to kiss you.” Raven’s voice is rough from crying.

“You can, you know.” Lexa smiles and chews on her bottom lip. It’s all Raven has in her to stop herself from kissing Lexa right then and there on the waterfront.

“I don’t want to say ‘yes, I’m ready for this,’ just so I can kiss you.” Raven slowly starts to put more distance between them. She needs it, or she’ll give in. But she misses the warmth as soon as their bodies are no longer pressed close.

Lexa lets Raven pull back. “I didn’t expect an answer tonight,” she smiles softly and tries to reassure Raven. She doesn’t want the moment to end but hopes that in letting her go Raven will find her own way back. “Octavia told me to tell you that she expects your runs to keep happening on the regular, and Clarke has a project she wants to work on with you. So don’t think you have to say yes just to be in our lives. You’re our friend first.”

Raven nods and lets out a shaky breath. “And you?” she looks at Lexa with her heart in her throat.

There are tears in Lexa’s eyes when she answers. “I- I want you in my life whatever that needs to look like.”

Raven reaches out and brushes the tears from Lexa’s cheeks. There’s a moment and then soft, almost embarrassed laughter spills from her lips. They’re a sight in the setting sun, crying and clinging to each other and hope.

“I just need some time,” Raven nods to herself more than Lexa. “But I’ll come by with my answer when I have it.”

“Don’t stay away too long,” Lexa doesn’t know what else to say. She’s aching to beg Raven to stay. “I know you’re close with Anya, but if you need someone, don’t feel like you can’t talk to her about this just because I’m her sister.”

That earns her a genuine smile, “Thank you.”

The sun is nearly set and the air is growing colder by the minute, and it’s clear there’s nothing left for them to say tonight. Lexa offers Raven a ride home she refuses because being in a car alone together is more temptation than she can handle right now. That makes Lexa laugh but she agrees, wanting to give Raven whatever space she needs. Raven counters with an offer to walk her to the bus stop.

The goodbye hug is short, both girls aware of the potential between them, and the bus, for once, is prompt, or perhaps incredibly late. Either way, Raven has to leave.

“Raven!” Lexa calls and Raven pauses on the steps of the bus to look over her shoulder. “Thank you… for not kissing me.” It’s Raven’s turn to laugh and her laughter sounds like music.

They’re both left grinning as the bus pulls away.

##  _______________________________________

 

Nine a.m. on Saturday morning and Raven is knocking on Anya’s door with a cup of tea and two cups of coffee and just as many croissants. She doesn’t want to leave anyone out in case Anya has a guest again, especially since this is a peace offering for waking Anya up early for the second time this week.

Anya opens the door bleary-eyed and dressed in a loose shirt and leggings as if she’d just thrown on clothes to answer the door. “Second time this week, Reyes,” she grumbles but steps back and lets Raven in as she rub sleep from her eyes.

Raven hands Anya the coffee and croissants, “You didn’t tell me she was going to ask me out.”

“What?” Anya leads them into the living room, half collapsing on the end of the couch as she sets breakfast down on the coffee table. “Wait… Lexa asked you out?”

“Yes… well, it was more of an invitation to date  _ all _ of them, not just her, but Lexa delivered it.” Raven sips at her tea and settles into one of the oversized chairs. She’s still reeling from the night before and having collapsed into Lexa’s arms. “You’re honestly going to tell me you had no idea.”

Anya looks between Raven and her coffee and sighs, letting the question sit for a moment before answering. “I knew she felt something for you, I didn’t expect her to actually follow through quite so quickly.”

Raven stands up again, leaving her tea on the table without a coaster. Anya swoops in and places one underneath it before Raven has properly started her pacing in front of the windows that flank an entire wall of Anya’s apartment. She watches Anya let her head sink into her hand, elbow propped on the arm of the couch, but she doesn’t stop pacing. “You knew we both had feelings for each other, and were both freaking out about them, and you didn’t say anything to either of us.”

“Correct,” Anya yawns.

Raven huffs, “That’s fair I suppose.” She can’t be angry that Anya kept both their confidences, even as she wishes she would have known for certain so that maybe she wouldn’t have been so emotional yesterday, or wrongly assumed that Lexa was breaking up with her as a friend. Then again, it’s entirely possible that she would have been emotional no matter what. Even though everything with Wick is finally behind her once more she still isn’t back to being herself, and is only slowly coming to terms with the fact that she will always be changed. Who she was before Wick is gone.

Maybe one day she’ll be okay with that.

“So what did you tell my little sis?” Anya swirls the coffee around in her cup.

Raven stops pacing and leans against the glass. “That I needed time.”

There are footsteps in the hallway and Lincoln walks into the living room. He’s got on a long sleeved tee and basketball shorts. “I thought I heard voices.” He smiles at them both and crosses the room to pick up the second cup of coffee when Anya gestures to it. “Everything okay, Raven?”

Anya snorts. Raven rolls her eyes.

“Just a romantic crisis, or a lack of romance crisis. Trying to make the right decision for the right reasons.” She shrugs and pushes off the window to renew her pacing. She wants Lexa, and the idea of being with Clarke and Octavia as well is attractive. She cares about them, trusts them, more than once she’s thought about being in their arms, but being lonely isn’t a reason she should start a relationship, not when she doesn’t believe that she’s someone anyone would really want beyond a few nights.

There’s a part of her, a very loud part, that feels unlovable.

“And what exactly are the right reasons?” Anya asks softly.

“Seems to me that if you care about a person, you try to make it work.” Lincoln raises his cup toward Anya and Raven, “You two give me a call if you need me.” He’s in the hallway again before he turns around, “I know it’s not my business but the girls, they’d be lucky to have you, Raven.”

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before Lincoln disappears into Anya’s room and shuts the door. Raven glances to Anya to find her friend hiding a grin behind her coffee cup again. 

“What the pretty one said,” Anya sets down her coffee and crosses the room to Raven. She takes her hands for a moment, then tucks hair behind Raven’s ear. Raven closes her eyes for a moment just feeling the feeling of being touched kindly.

“They don’t need me,” she whispers.

Anya shakes her head. “If there’s anyone I know, it’s Lexa, and after that, maybe you,” Anya pats her gently once upside the head the again a few times with more force.

Raven feels light with the feeling for a moment full of hope and positivity. She’s almost giddy with it and knows the feeling will come to an end but for now she lets it wash over her and bubble up in laughter. Maybe there’s a chance, that despite everything, there’s a chance to be happy again.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” and just like that, the feeling is gone.

Anya sighs heavily and rolls her eyes, “Guess you have to decide if that’s a risk you’re willing to take.”

##  _______________________________________

 

The first text came shortly before the end of Lexa’s first day at Trikru Associates.

_ Octavia 4:51pm : meet me in the park in 20 _

_ Lexa 4:51pm : ? _

_ Octavia 4:52pm : nothing just i’m in the park _

Lexa laughs and shoots off a reply, the park is just a couple blocks over from the precinct and it won’t take her much longer to get there. She has no idea what Octavia is planning, or if it’s anything at all.

At five-oh-nine Lexa steps out of her car and glances around the park. The sun is going down - or well, the clouds are getting darker, so she assumes the sun is setting- and the playground is nearly empty. That probably has more to do with the cold wind than it does with the dark day.

She spots Octavia quickly; she’s seated on one of the swings. Lincoln is relaxed against the play structure. Octavia looks both light and cautious all at once as if she’s coming back into herself despite everything. She laughs at something Lincoln says and Lexa can just catch a few notes of the sound. Lexa hasn’t heard enough of it recently. First with Wick stalking Raven, and Clarke hitting bottom, and now even with the uncertainty that everything will change with Raven’s answer, it hasn’t felt like they’ve had a lot of reasons to laugh lately.

It’s been days and none of them have heard from Raven, Lexa tries to not let that get to her.

Octavia’s face lights up when she spots Lexa. There’s love and happiness and contentment in her like she’s trying to make up for the lack of sun. Then again, the sun isn’t needed when Octavia is smiling at her like that.

“Ready to go?” Lexa calls out as she steps from the grass to the woodchip. It’s an old playground - not many places still risk giving kids splinters, everything is plastic and rubber these days. “Hey, Lincoln.”

“Hey, Lexa,” Lincoln straightens up with a smile. “I was just about to take off, got to go get ready for a date. She’s all yours.” He winks and Lexa feels a blush creep across her cheeks. For once though there isn’t the immediate flood of panic, though the panic is still there, waiting for her. She hates fearing being outed- she’s always been open about her sexuality and this self-imposed closeting is starting to take its toll.

She has no one to blame but herself.

“Did you hear who he has a date with?” Octavia is nearly bouncing on the swing.

“I’ve got a pretty good guess,” Lexa laughs and it’s Lincoln’s turn to blush. “I don’t need to give you the talk do I?”

“Not a chance,” Lincoln nods and turns to go, “Catch you ladies later!”

Octavia reaches for Lexa’s hands and tugs her close until their knees touch. “Swing with me.”

Lexa glances around and almost pulls her hands away, but there’s no one else in the park, and any fear she has seems vaguely unfounded. Still, they aren’t far from either of their workplaces. “What if someone we know sees?”

Octavia pouts, “I thought your new job meant no more hiding.”

The lightness is gone, the edge of fear and pain and unbelonging creeps back in. Lexa wants to just let it all go, but nothing is stable yet. Holding their secret close seems somehow safe and familiar.

“You know it isn’t that simple.”

“I know.”

The defeat in Octavia’s voice cracks something in Lexa and she turns to sit in Octavia’s lap. As Octavia’s arms wrap around her she feels right. She doesn’t want to feel like she has to hide any longer. She wants to feel safe to be comfortable with those she loves. Octavia rests her head against Lexa’s back.

This is why they need to be able to be open. They can’t continue to deny each other simple comforts.

“How long have you known about Lincoln and Anya?”

“Monday. Anya’s seeing Niylah, too.”

“Linc said. So queer really runs in the family, huh?”

Lexa pushes them on the swing with her foot and laughs.

“Lexa?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you heard from Raven?” Octavia’s voice is barely a whisper.

“Not yet.” Lexa wants to twist and face her girlfriend but the swing makes it difficult so she stays facing away. “She promised she would come to us when she had an answer.”

“I don’t want to lose her.”

“Me either.”

“Too much has hurt lately.”

“Maybe this won’t.” Lexa lets go of the chains and wraps her arms over the top of Octavia’s still around her waist. She holds her as tightly as she can. Some days it just feels like they’re barely keeping it together, other days it’s good and everything they hope for, but these past few months have been more than they could have weathered alone.

“I’m really glad I had you with me,” Lexa whispers. “Having you around made all of this easier.”

Octavia squeezes Lexa and stands them up, not really letting go as she does. Lexa shifts and wraps her arm around Octavia’s shoulders as they start to walk. They have each other, and they have Clarke, and maybe one day soon, they’ll have Raven too. Then things will be okay. They’re together. They’ll be okay.

##  _______________________________________

 

The sky is nearly black by the time Raven finds it in her to make her way over to the Blake-Griffin-Woods house. She can’t stop thinking about the trio and as scared as that makes her she doesn’t want to not try. She’ll regret that more.

Still, she’s standing on their stoop in the cold and dark and wondering if she’ll have the courage to go through with saying yes. She grits her teeth and knocks on the door even though she has a key. It doesn’t feel right to use it tonight. 

This is one of those defining moments - no, walking out of her apartment and getting on the bus - that was the moment. She didn’t decide standing here on the stoop, she decided an hour ago alone on her couch that she was somewhere in her life she didn’t want to be, and sitting there was an olive branch, a goddamn beacon of hope, offering itself up if only she didn’t throw it away. She has become so skilled at pushing everyone and everything away, but it’s exhausting.

There is no level of exhaustion she doesn’t feel.

Raven wants her life back. She wants to feel like she belongs again, that she has a family again. She wants to be loved the way she wants. All the things she had given up on wanting and she’s standing on her friend’s doorstep hoping that she’ll find them on the other side. There’s a chance waiting in the soft glow of the living room.

When she hears footsteps approach the door she almost turns to go. She can tell from the gait that it’s Octavia. The door opens a crack and Raven doesn’t know what to do, not with Octavia standing there in impossibly short skin tight running shorts and a thin, loose sweatshirt. Here hair is tied back and messy, her breath coming in little gasps.

“Raven,” she sounds surprised and there’s a tinge of nerves in her voice. The giggling behind her stops.

“I- I can come back,” Raven turns before Octavia can say anything else, but a hand on her wrist stops her and drags her inside.

“We weren’t expecting you, and it’s dark… usually you get a ride if it is. Is everything okay?” Octavia rambles like she doesn’t know why Raven might be over, or perhaps it’s that she doesn’t want to press Raven into having to talk about it. Part of her wishes she had.

“Lexa asked me something on Friday and I thought I should deliver my answer in person.” Raven closes the door behind her and fights the urge to lean against it. She can feel three sets of eyes on her and it’s unnerving.

She makes herself take in the room. Music is playing softly. Clarke and Lexa are on the couch looking equally as dishevelled as Octavia. Raven tries not to think about what she interrupted and how easily she might find herself a part of it one day soon. She can’t not think about it though now that the thought is there.

A part of her wants very much to be impulsive, convince them that they should just continue as if she hadn’t interrupted, as long as she was included. She’s tired of feeling like she isn’t enough and they asked her out. They want her.

Raven isn’t really sure how long they all stand there thinking. It might be an honest eternity. No one breathes, and everyone is fixated on the same thing - this is where the road splits. Do they simply remain friends? Or do they dive off into the abyss of the unknown and take a chance. The others are waiting for her to speak again having nothing left to say until she finishes her thought.

Her throat feels like sandpaper. It’s only been a few seconds at the most.

Clarke and Lexa cross the living room, soft hellos and shy smiles.

She just has to dive in. “First I want to make sure we’re all on the same page here. All three of you want to date me?”

Lexa takes half a step forward but it’s Clarke who speaks first. “We want you to be our fourth, if you’re interested.”

“Why now? What changed?” Raven can feel a tug in her stomach, just an inkling. She wants to say yes, but she has to know if this is really real.

Lexa shoves her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “At the bar, I realized my feelings for you were more than platonic.” It’s getting easier to say each time she admits it. Even with Raven standing here in their house she doesn’t want to hope.

“And you two?”

“You’re one of my closest friends, Raven.” Octavia doesn’t know what she should say. How she can be honest but not ruin this chance, not when it means so much to Lexa and she would give anything to see Raven happy. “It feels right having you around.”

Clarke fixes Raven with a knowing smile, “Once Lexa broached the possibility it seemed obvious. We’ve never questioned you knowing about us or having you around more. This place feels more like a home when you’re here.”

Raven takes in their answers. She doesn’t know what she’s waiting to hear but everything is moving her closer to saying yes. She just can’t yet. “What if I say no?”

“This isn’t an ultimatum,” Clarke says softly. She reaches out and squeezes Raven’s hand. The touch shoots through her in ways she didn’t expect. Suddenly there’s potential in it where there never has been.

“I don’t think I could stand to lose my running partner.” Octavia bumps her elbow against Raven’s, “Who else am I going to outrun?”

“Like you can beat me.” Raven retorts. “But really guys, just like that, you want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Let us date you, woo you.” Lexa chews on her bottom lip. “I know it won’t be your typical dating experience… for a lot of reasons, but mostly because we’re all already so close, but let us take you out, each of us.”

“We’ve been talking a lot about how we all have different dynamics, and we relate differently, and trying to embrace that.” Octavia offers up. 

“We want to give you a chance to find out how you might fit with us together and individually. If you want.” Clarke adds.

There’s something incredibly mature about the calm surety of the conversation. No desperation, no pleading, no all or nothing, just an offer, a chance, a little bit of hope. Raven feels like she could walk away and everything would turn back to the way it was, or as close to it as possible. She finds she doesn’t want to, even with the fear making her tremble.

“What if we can’t make it work?”

“Then at least we tried,” Lexa says, almost too quiet to hear.

“Okay.” Raven nods, maybe more times than she needs to, and squares her shoulders. “Let’s try.”

Octavia smiles at her softly and reaches out for her hand. Clarke grins at her, wild and happy. Lexa’s smile is reserved but she’s positively glowing.

Raven hasn’t been this nervous to hold someone’s hand since high school. She doesn’t have to worry about that thought because Lexa is pulling her into a hug, whispering in her ear, lips pressed to her hair. And then Lexa lets her go but only so Clarke can pull her close and it feels like Clarke will never let her go. Octavia and Lexa join the hug. Whispers of happiness and excitement, promises and just wanting to try.

“What do we do now?” Raven asks softly.

The hug breaks apart and Clarke laughs as her hands knead Raven’s shoulders, “Relax, maybe?”

“Movie night? I know it’s not our usual night, but we’ve got ice cream.” Octavia suggests.

Lexa helps Raven off with her jacket and shoes. Clarke squeezes Raven’s hand and moves to set up a movie, whatever is next in their queue they set up so they don’t have to spend time deciding anymore. Octavia retrieves the carton of ice cream and a singular large spoon. All of a sudden it’s like any other movie night.

Except it’s all different. One spoon instead of four for their ice cream, Octavia didn’t even bother with a bowl, just grabbed the carton. Raven feels like it’s somehow incredibly profound if not a bit impractical. Lexa tugs Raven into her lap and she ends up with her head on Clarke’s shoulder. Octavia lifts Raven’s legs into her own lap and settles down so she’s curled up under Lexa’s arm with her head on Raven’s thigh.

Her heart is fluttering and beating against her ribs like a tiny caged bird. It’s nothing to everything. Lexa hands her the spoon with a bite of ice cream on it and she sucks on it. Chocolate and fudge and the cold is calming. She passes the ice cream to Clarke. Four friends cuddling on the couch. It doesn’t seem a far cry from where they were last week, and maybe not all that much has changed between them, except that maybe one day soon, if it feels right, they might get to kiss.

Maybe one day soon Raven wouldn’t go home itching to be held or touched.

Maybe soon their arms will feel like coming home.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Clarke changed her outfit four times before she left the house that morning because she was meeting Raven for lunch. The ridiculousness of that fact is not lost on her as Raven has seen her in paint splatter ratty clothes after she hasn’t showered for four days when trying to finish up a painting for a show.

Hell, Raven had seen her at her worst, and yet by some magic they’re still friends. In some ways she feels like Raven understands her like no one else does.

None of that helps to alleviate the nerves. If she hadn’t joked about their plans being a date maybe an actual date could have happened organically and there would have been a lot less stress involved. They could just chill, and joke around like normal. She isn’t sure if their friendship makes this all more awkward or not.

It’s clear at least, when Raven shows up that she is equally as nervous. Ten layers of nerves nervous. Clarke is glad for that though, because Raven seems to have put as much effort into how she looks as Clarke had, though they’re both dressed simply. Raven still manages to look amazing.

Dark skinny jeans, ones she had tailored so she could tuck them into her prosthetic. Her prosthetic itself which looks more like a beautiful machine than any other she’s ever seen. A cream colored camisole underneath a burnt orange and brown plaid flannel. Her hair is up in a messy bun, wisps of brown curls framing her face.

Clarke’s been staring too long and blinks, shaking herself from her reverie, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Raven echoes. 

They both reach out for a hug at the same time but pull back, unsure the other meant it, until they meet each other’s eyes and laugh and hug quickly like a middle school crush finally got up the nerve to make the big move. Clarke is starting to think this might be one of the more disastrous first dates she has ever been on. This is the start. Last night on the couch had been all of them, holding onto their friendship and making promises they wanted to keep. It was easier to be brave when everyone else was putting on a brave face too.

“Your usual, Greek salad, no cheese?” Clarke tips her head to the side and smiles. 

Raven bites her lip and nods, smiling before heading toward a corner table. She misses the familiarity of their usual place, but Clarke had insisted they go somewhere new on their date. Clarke orders and waits for the plates to come up, it takes longer than at their normal bakery where they practically have their orders waiting when they walk in. Their lunch comes up, and with nothing else to delay she turns back, time to try again, round two of their date. 

Clarke has an idea, it’s a bit of a stupid idea but it’s not like sitting together awkwardly is going to make this go any smoother. 

“Raven,” she starts as she slides into her chair. Raven looks up at her with curiosity on her face having heard the tone in playful Clarke’s voice. “You know, if you were a fruit you’d be a fine-apple.” Clarke grins.

“Are you serious?” Raven shakes her head, but she’s smiling, “You’re going to woo me with cheesey pick-up lines?”

“Figured it’d be worth a shot and it’s better than the awkward,” Clarke gestures toward the front of the shop and whatever it was that had passed between them earlier. “Why, you don’t think you’re up for it?”

“You know I’m always game, Griffin, just don’t think you can match me, because you know, you must be from outer space because your ass is outta this world.” Raven fixes Clarke with a grin of her own, thinking that this might be their craziest idea but at least it feels much more like them and not some strange semblance.

“Do you know what the top three worst pick up lines are? One, do you come here often? Two, do you drink milk because it did your body good, and three do you know what the top three worst pick up lines are?”

“Touché,” Raven leans forward, her forearms against the edge of the table. “So I’ve got a real problem with numbers, can I have yours?”

Clarke laughs and ducks her head. This is the Raven she loves having around, a bit competitive, a bit silly. She reaches out under the table and brushes her calf against Ravens, which earns her one of the most beautiful blushing smiles she thinks she’s ever seen. “I’m glad we’re getting lunch because I think you stole a pizza my heart.”

Raven raises an eyebrow at that but doesn’t question the implication further. This is their game, a safe place so they can  be comfortable with the changing intimacy in their relationship. As far as surviving first dates go this isn’t a bad strategy, especially when it would be all too easy to fall into old habits and just be friends.

The noise of the other patrons swells up around them for a few moments as they watch each other, exchanging soft smiles full of nerves and feeling and a bit of excitement. It’s a gentle kind of hope, one that’s built out of comfort and happiness and has nothing to do at all with surviving and everything to do with living.

“Clarke, do you know what you and the sun both have in common? You’re both hot and make my day brighter.”

“So you think I’m hot?” Clarke’s tone is teasing, but there’s something more serious in it, a sudden shift from the banter that had brought them out of the awkwardness.

Raven sets down her water and fixes Clarke with a stare, “Oh come on, Griffin, I’d have to be blind… yes.” She stops herself from continuing with the teasing, because there’s a change between them. She can feel the edge of insecurity in that question. “Clarke, I wouldn’t have agreed to dating the three of you if I wasn’t attracted to all of you.”

“You know I’m not just being a tease, I do like you, quite a lot actually.” Clarke switches seats and scoots closer to Raven. She moves their plates aside so she can lean on the table and face her. She reaches out and curls a tendril of Raven’s hair around her finger.

“Is that so?” Raven glances to Clarke’s hand so near her face, feels their knees bump together underneath the table, and her heart starts racing. It’s been a long time since someone has flirted with her this openly, someone she wants to be flirting with. “Well the feeling goes both ways, I don’t just give all my friends therapy sessions and feed them.” She bumps her cheek against Clarke’s fingers.

“I still owe you for that.” Clarke brushes her thumb across Raven’s cheek.

“You’re here, I think we’re even.” Raven smiles and bites her bottom lip. She wants to close the distance between them and kiss her. It’s a possibility, they’re on a date, a date that everyone in the relationship knows about, and giving into that desire would be allowed. Raven meets Clarke’s eyes, clear blue, deep and piercing, and full of life. Clarke’s lips part and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Now that’s all she can think about, the idea of kissing, and of kissing Clarke, all things she hasn’t let herself think about or want for too long. 

This last year has been a long denial of her attraction, so much so that she repressed her feelings entirely. Except now, with Clarke caressing her cheek, all those feelings are bubbling up and boiling in her blood and she’s turning into a ball of feelings and energy, no longer completely herself but possibly more fully everything she is than she has been. 

Their lunch is forgotten, with each moment that passes they’re inching closer together, nearly close enough that the other is blurry. Raven’s voice is breathy when she speaks, “So are you going to kiss me or am I going to need to do it?”

Clarke’s lips are soft. Impossibly soft. At first the kiss is just a gentle press, tentative, and uncertain. Then Raven kisses her back, lips parted, and it’s more she can process, so she just keeps kissing Clarke, ignoring that they’re in public, too focused on Clarke’s hand in her hair, holding her in place, kissing her back.

Her heart is racing, beating solidly against her chest. She feels like she might drown with the feelings rushing over her. No one has kissed her with this much gentleness or this much care in years. Clarke pulls back, a breath of a laugh on her lips, and rests her forehead against Raven’s. It’s almost too much. She feels like she’s finding her way back to herself, as if that one kiss awakened part of her she had thought long dead.

Raven reaches up, brushing shaking fingertips across Clarke’s cheek. 

“Raven?” Clarke breathes out her name like a prayer. “Are you okay?”

Words tremble in her mouth and she can’t find the one’s she needs. Instead she tugs Clarke’s hand from where it rests on her thigh and brings it to press against her chest, just over her sternum. It’s as if her heart picks up pace at Clarke’s touch. But the message is strong and clear: Clarke is the reason she’s feeling this way, frantic and desperate and like she doesn’t know which way is up but knows she’s safe as long as Clarke is touching her.

Her pulse steadies and with it the feelings racing through her mind. 

“I wanted this, with you, with Lexa, with Octavia, since I met you, but I couldn’t risk your friendship. I didn’t know how to tell you. I needed this, and I don’t think I realized how much.” As she speaks she sits up straighter so she’s looking Clarke in the eyes, finding the depths of blue that seem so much like a comfort.

For the first time she feels the full force of Clarke’s smile directed at her, bright and warm like she’s looking at what makes her happy. Raven wishes they were somewhere more private, knows that maybe they shouldn’t have kissed in public for the first time, but she refuses to wish that it hadn’t happened.

“I’m glad you waited that -”

Clarke’s phone buzzes with a series of text messages, rapid fire, one right after another. Raven goes pale.

On instinct Clarke flips her hand so she’s holding Raven’s even as she reaches for her phone with the other. She turns her phone over and is greeted with a series of notifications, several texts and three missed calls - all from Lincoln. Her grip on Raven’s hand tightens because she knows, she just  _ knows _ what that many messages and missed calls means.

Octavia is in the hospital.

This is the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese:  
> “Isso não é o que eu quis dizer, nenhum pouco.” - That is not what I meant to say, not at all. I really should not have said that.  
> “Tô indo embora. Acabou.” - I'm leaving/I should go. This is it.
> 
> ________
> 
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things! And if you enjoy my writing keep on out on my tumblr for ways to support me, if you feel so inclined :)


	25. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 4 | 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised some of you a happier chapter end ;)

Raven doesn’t let go of Clarke’s hand until they find Lexa downtown and the two crash into each other in fear and desperation, not caring for once who sees. They cling to each other, afraid of what may be waiting for them at the hospital. Lexa winds herself around Clarke and Raven isn’t sure who is holding whom, both trying to breath through their emotions and failing miserably. Raven slips the keys from Lexa’s hand.

The drive to the hospital is in silence, only broken by the radio. No one wants to speculate for fear of making their worries worse.

The last thing Raven expects as she pulls into the parking garage and gets out of the car is for Lexa to pull her into a hug. It hasn’t yet been twenty-four hours since she told them she was interested in trying to date so she isn’t expecting that they treat her any differently, even after the kiss with Clarke.

Lexa whispers in Raven’s ear and it’s almost as if she’s reading her mind as she whispers that no matter what she’s still their friend and belongs here. That this isn’t going to change anything about what they asked, all of them care about Octavia and it wouldn’t be right if Raven wasn’t there with them.

Clarke takes her hand again as they walk toward the emergency waiting room. Raven notices Clarke’s other hand hovers around the small of Lexa’s back, all at once comforting and afraid to be. She ends all contact the moment they spot Lincoln and Bellamy in the waiting room. It’s like a wall goes up around Clarke and Lexa, the warmth flowing between the three of them is cut off, and they’re left cold and alone with their worry.

Lexa lets Clarke go to Lincoln first, hovering near Raven as the other rushes forward. She wants to be there with her other girlfriend, close enough to touch so that this churning in her gut subsides, but they decoupled. This is what they do, it’s second nature, and yet Lexa doesn’t think it’s ever hurt more than in this moment when she’s been relegated to a friend or worse, roommate, and Clarke is the only one who has any claim on the girlfriend title. 

The reality of her self-imposed closeting slaps Lexa across the face. She could have changed this, but she never thought about what would happen if one of them got injured. Never thought that she wouldn’t be able to break her own rules because of Bellamy, and as he rushes over to Clarke’s side and she watches Clarke flinch away from his touch, Lexa knows that keeping their relationship a secret might be keeping them safe no matter how much it hurts.

When Bellamy offers her a hug it’s all Clarke has in her not to recoil completely. He still hasn’t apologized for threatening Lexa and that doesn’t change the fact that he did in the first place. He may be family, an older brother she’s long since grown apart from, but she can’t bring herself to take comfort from someone that has caused her so much pain. Instead she reaches for Lincoln’s hands and yields when he pulls her into a hug. 

Lincoln holds her for a few moments waiting for Lexa and Raven to join them. The five of them stand there in the cold fluorescent light that bounces off the white tile of the floor. It’s a harsh alternate reality, stark and unreal, as if they’ve slipped into an inbetween space. Around them are the echoes of those in pain and scared children. The world looms large around them, five adults feeling more like children in that moment because how do you deal with something like this?

Fear twists inside Clarke. It’s the not knowing that is the worst. She’s in some kind of stasis, caught between panic and hope that there’s still a chance that Octavia will be okay.

“We’re all here now, what happened?” Bellamy’s voice is strained with worry.

Four sets of eyes turn toward Lincoln. He nods grim faced. Clarke has seen that face before, the cop getting ready to deliver bad news. She had hoped she would never have to see that look directed at her, not from someone in uniform and not from a friend. The abrasion on Lincoln’s forehead is still oozing slightly, just a reminder that whatever had happened was not that long in the past.

Lincoln falls into a relaxed, non-threatening position and takes a deep breath before starting. “We were first in on a hostage situation, nearly hostages ourselves. Either the guys with the guns didn’t see us or they were just stupid enough to not care. We were getting lunch at that food court in the building across from the museum - a school group was there. Octavia was trying to make sure the kids were as protected as possible, I was trying to get a call in for backup. I got my call in but the ringleader grabbed Octavia realizing she was a plainclothes cop. He had a gun up against her head, or it was pointed at one of the kids. Everything was about to go south and he threw her. She went headfirst into one of the pillars.” Lincoln is shaking and on the verge of tears. “I took my chance and took him down but all I could see was O crumpling to the ground. She hasn’t woken up yet as far as I know. They said something about taking her to get a CT done and that was the last I heard.”

Bellamy is red faced, clearly as scared as he is angry.

“Why the hell weren’t you right there with her? How did you get far enough away that some idiot with a gun could grab my sister?” Bellamy steps forward into Lincoln’s space trying to stare him down even though he’s a good three inches shorter. “You’re supposed to protect her, you’re her partner.”

“Listen, We did everything we could, we didn’t have backup yet. The only reason it ended so quickly is that backup  _ did _ show up.” Lincoln is calm as he steps into Bellamy’s space. They’re almost chest to chest. “I did my job.”

“You didn’t do it well enough, or else my baby sister wouldn’t be unconscious in the hospital right now.”

“Your little sister is a grown woman, and a detective, and you need to step back.”

“Or what? What are you going to do to me Lincoln? You’ve known me for more than a decade and you know Octavia would flip if you so much as laid a finger on me.”

“Listen, I get that you’re upset but you need to back up and take a deep breath.”

Bellamy throws up his hands, making as if he might push off Lincoln’s chest but at the last minute he lets them drop before storming off.

The group flinches as a door slams against a wall and breathes out a collective sigh of relief when he doesn’t come back immediately. The din of the waiting room looms up around them, a reminder that their disaster is not the only one around, that their pain is not the only pain demanding to be felt. Octavia’s accident is just a drop in the bucket of the misfortune heaped on the world today.

Clarke breaks the silence. Her voice is small. “Did they say when they would be back with an update, or when we could see her?”

Lincoln shakes his head.

##  _______________________________________  
  


The moment Anya is through the waiting room doors Lexa is up and out of her seat and rushing across the small room. Her heart is in her throat, they haven’t had word of Octavia in a while now and last they heard was that she would be moved into the ICU for monitoring. Once they had her settled the group had been told her family could go see her, which meant Bellamy could go in, not even Clarke had been able to talk the ICU nurse into letting her in when the time came unless Bellamy gave his okay. Right now Bellamy was ignoring everyone.

Lexa half collapses against Anya as she throws her arms around her sister’s neck, seeking out the familiar comfort and warmth. She feels like she’s six again and clinging to the only person that doesn’t leave her, the one that can stop the world from turning upside down.

“Easy there, Lexy,” Anya whispers too quietly for anyone but Lexa to hear. The childhood nickname opens her up to how bad this really might be, all the things she hadn’t let herself think. She feels raw and exposed and hides in her sister's arms. “Lincoln called and I came as soon as I could get away.” Anya presses the words to Lexa’s hair, her fingers tangling in the long strands.

“We still don’t know if she’s going to be okay,” Lexa lets her voice break, lets the fear out like a pressure release valve.

“How are you? How’s Clarke?” Anya pulls back from the embrace and starts taking off her scarf and coat.

Lexa takes a deep settling breath and straightens her shoulders. “Holding together… I think. Clarke pulled away and-”

“You _ let _ her?” Anya drops her voice back to a whisper and steps closer to Lexa. “After these past few months?”

“Bellamy is here,” Lexa whispers and takes a step back, crossing her arms over her stomach. “And he doesn’t-”

“Still? Even with-”

“Yes.”

“You’re making this worse than it has to be,” Anya shakes her head and moves around Lexa, leaving her standing in the middle of the lobby. There’s an edge to her sister’s voice that she knows all too well. Anya doesn’t agree with her decision to keep the relationship a secret.

She turns to watch Anya as her sister nods to Lincoln but doesn’t change course from Clarke, who is curled into a chair in the corner staring out the window. Guilt wells up inside her because she doesn’t know how to go about fixing this without risking Bellamy finding out about them.

Lexa slowly makes her way back to the chair next to Raven and sinks into it. They all need each other right now. When Raven slips her hand into Lexa’s she lets her because she can, because it doesn’t out them as a trio trying to become a quartet. She keeps herself from leaning into Raven though, as much as she wants to. If she’s going to hold herself back from being openly affectionate with her girlfriend then she shouldn’t be with her almost-girlfriend.

Not when her sister is right.

Not when she should be the one comforting Clarke.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Clarke doesn’t notice Anya’s approach until Anya is knelt in front of her, hand laid gently on her knees, looking up at her with a level of concern Clarke didn’t think Anya would ever hold for her. She has no idea how to react.

“My sister is an idiot.” Anya says softly, her tone belaying an entirely different message than her words. She smiles like she’s letting Clarke in on a secret. It’s barely there, just a hint of a twitch at the corner of Anya’s mouth but it’s all Clarke needs to see to know that Anya is on her side and maybe always has been.

“She’s just trying to protect us all,” Clarke sighs. As much as she hates the situation she understands the reasoning. “And right now… with Bellamy here…”

“Screw him.” Anya shoves Clarke playfully. “She should be over here with you, not me.”

Clarke almost smiles at that, but she shakes her head instead, “I’m afraid he’ll flip out and keep any of us from seeing Octavia.”

“Would he really do that? Even to you?”

Clarke taps the scar cutting through her eyebrow, “He did this.”

Anya frowns and tugs Clarke half off her chair and into an awkward embrace. There’s a fierce protectiveness in the way her arms wrap around Clarke, like she’s trying to shield Clarke from all the bad things happening and that have happened before. Her grip is stronger than Clarke expected and reminds her of the desperate way Lexa will hug her sometimes when she wants to make things better but doesn’t have a way to. Anya stays silent, doesn’t whisper false comforts, but lets Clarke relax into the embrace. Whether the world knows it or not, Anya is family: part friend, part-almost-sister-in-law.

Clarke feels the first tears too late and she’s crying before she can stop the flood. Crying because Anya is her family. Crying because Lexa can’t hold her. Crying because they can’t let Bellamy know how much they all love his sister. Crying because her girlfriend, her best friend, is unconscious and they don’t know when she will wake up.

When. It has to be when, it can’t be if. And that makes her cry all the harder - the fear at the thought of losing Octavia. She feels Anya finally relax into the hug, drawing soothing patterns across Clarke’s shoulders and back, murmuring small reassurances and reminders that they’re all in this together. Anya’s voice is soft, softer than Clarke has ever heard it and she almost misses the threat that Anya promises, that if Bellamy does find out one day and tries anything that she will make sure he can never hurt them again.

##  _______________________________________  
  


They’ve all fallen into silence, Anya having drug Clarke across the lobby to sit with Lexa and Raven. Clarke between her girlfriend and almost-girlfriend, Anya next to Lexa, Lincoln next to Anya. Bellamy alternates pacing with sitting next to Raven and as far away from Lincoln as he can get.

Lexa is just about to get up and inquire about Octavia when a nurse starts to head in their direction. Everyone stirs, hands are reached for or let go of as some of them stand. Bellamy stops the nurse before she reaches the group and Clarke hurries to stand next to him. She’s not letting him push her out just because he doesn’t trust her relationship with Octavia anymore.

The nurse is smiling softly. She isn’t one that Clarke knows, not someone her mother has introduced her to. The thought that Abby needs to be called flicks through her mind but the nurse is asking them how they’re related to Octavia.

“I’m her brother.”

“And you, Miss?”

“Family,” Clarke answers assuredly. Bellamy grunts but doesn’t say anything to dispute her claim that she belongs in this conversation as much as he does.

“Octavia suffered severe head trauma. Right now her brain has swollen and we’re waiting for that to recede so we can assess how much damage has been done.”

“How long until you’re expecting her to wake up?” Clarke asks. So far the nurse has told her nothing she hadn’t already been able to figure out.

“It could be anywhere from an hour to a few days, it’s hard to tell with these kind of things, but we’re keeping a close eye on her. You can go in and visit, but we ask that visitors are kept to a maximum of three at a time and only family and close friends. At least until she’s conscious.”

The nurse still hasn’t moved from in front of them to show them the way to Octavia’s room, but there’s a pause in her speech. It’s just a hiccup like she’s evaluating, waiting to see what she needs to say. Clarke knows what it is before she says it, never had those words directed at her, but she’s heard them said before.

What she doesn’t know is the way they will twist around her insides.

“We have her on a ventilator. It’s just until her oxygen levels are back up and some of the trauma has receded. She will likely be able to breath on her own again soon. I just wanted to prepare you, I don’t know if either of you have seen anyone on one before, but it can be a shock.”

Clarke shakes her head. She feels Bellamy move next to her. Part of her wants to reach out for him. They were close once, like brother and sister, best friends. That was years ago. It feels so wrong to be standing next to him close enough to feel his presence and yet there’s a gulf between them that may never be crossed again, even with Octavia unconscious just down the hall. 

“Can you call Dr. Abby Griffin?” Clarke asks. “She’s my mom and she needs to know Octavia is in the hospital.”

“Of course. I can take you down to Octavia’s room now if you want.”

Bellamy takes a few steps but Clarke doesn’t move. She looks over her shoulder at Lincoln and Anya and Lexa and Raven and she tries to figure out who should be there first. It should be all of them, together. Clarke and Lexa and Raven need to be with their girl, but Bellamy is her brother, and Lincoln her best friend.

There are too many people that love her to visit all at once, at least until she wakes up.

“Are you coming?” Bellamy reaches out and squeezes Clarke’s shoulder gently. “It’s going to be okay. She’s going to be okay.”

For a moment he’s the brother she remembers him to be and she almost turns to him, believing him, taking comfort in his voice and his arms. “I was wondering who should go in first, since only three of us can go at a time.”

“You heard the nurse, only family and close friends.”

“That’s everyone here.” Clarke stares Bellamy down, ready to fight if he argues. “Lincoln needs to go in and see her.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll go in with Lexa and Raven.”

Bellamy narrows his eyes but nods. For once he doesn’t argue, he doesn’t fight her decision and just walks away. Clarke misses the old Bellamy, but that’s trouble for another day. She watches him follow the nurse into Octavia’s room and beckons for Lincoln and Anya to follow. 

That leaves Clarke and Raven and Lexa alone for the first time since they stepped foot inside the hospital, the reality of it all settling around them, unavoidable and looming over them.

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Clarke chews on her bottom lip afraid to meet Lexa or Raven’s eyes, that if she does what little resolve she has will crumble beneath her and she won’t be able to hold herself together any longer.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Clarke is the last one through the door into Octavia’s room, hovering near the doorway and the nurses’ cart in the hall as Lincoln, Anya, and Bellamy file out. Changing of the guard. Waiting to see when their girl would wake up. Anya offers her a grim smile but keeps walking, leaning into Lincoln who grips Clarke’s shoulder as he passes. She wishes they could all just sit together and wait in the room, but that’s too many people. At least this way Bellamy won’t be witness to anything that passes between her and Lexa and Raven.

Bellamy stops in front of Clarke. He looks harried and exhausted, it’s only been an hour or so, but there are dark circles under his eyes which are rimmed red from tears. He reaches out for Clarke, strong arms pulling her into a hug. She lets him, in some ways they’re still friends… they both care for Octavia in their own way. 

She holds him gently. This hug isn’t for her, he needs this. His sister is the one unconscious and he’s put himself on the outskirts of their friend group, having chosen to attack and blame instead of trust Lincoln. His arms offer Clarke no comfort though. She’s too far removed from the bond they had, always wondering when she’ll be confronted with her friend and when she’ll be confronted with the man that split her eyebrow open and threatened her girlfriend.

“Clarke?” Lexa calls softly from inside the room.

Clarke extracts herself from Bellamy’s embrace and gives him a sad smile before ducking into the room and closing the door behind her.

As many years as she spent around hospitals she isn’t ready for the sight before her. Octavia looks small and thin in the hospital bed. Her hair is haloed and messy around her head and she’s laying flat on her back, which seems so incredibly unnatural for her. There are machines and wires and tubes hooked up to her, an IV drip, heart monitor, and the worst part is the breathing tube. It tugs at the corner of her mouth, and her lips have already started to chap. Without that she might almost look peaceful, but with it Clarke can’t help but focus on how ashen her skin looks, the purpling bruise across her temple and cheek, and the disconcerting way in which every other part of her appears perfectly intact.

Clarke can’t make her feet approach the bed. This is the moment she’s been afraid of since Octavia joined the police academy right out of high school. Long before they ever dated she feared that this is where they would end up.

Lexa crosses the room, a few short steps until she can reach out for Clarke’s hand for the first time since they arrived at the emergency room hours ago. She finds Clarke trembling clearly uneasy as she herself feels. Lexa has never been in the hospital, not like this, there was the time she broke her arm but that was different, a few x-rays, a cast, some drugs, that was all. There wasn’t the fear, the underlying sweet smell of death beneath the chemicals in the hallway. Lexa doesn’t know how to process this and all that has happened. Exactly how worried she should be feels like a mystery.

Hand in hand they cross to Octavia’s bed. Up close the bruise looks worse but the rise and fall of her chest is reassuring. Lexa takes her hand, the one without the IV. Clarke holds onto Octavia’s forearm. 

A pressure starts to build in Lexa’s chest, fear knotted with worry and helplessness. It pushes up her throat, tightening the muscles and making it hurt to breathe, though her breath remains strangely unlabored. The tightness expands filling her up until she thinks it might press the tears from her eyes.

Raven circles the bed on the other side. She steadies herself on the railing, the words  _ not again _ on a loop in the back of her mind. Too many times has she been in that bed, or it’s been someone she loves. She swallows down that thought trying not to think about how easily she puts the girls in that category. She loves each of them without a doubt and is slowly falling in love. Her heart contracts at the thought of losing even one of them.

She watches Clarke and Lexa, pressed together shoulder to hip, hands gently holding onto Octavia, and she wonders if it’s too soon, if she should really be here for this or if she should let them have time alone. Having kissed Clarke doesn’t mean she’s their girlfriend. She can still feel the press of Clarke’s lips against hers, the bright joy Clarke had looked at her with before the call. It all seems so incongruous.

Raven turns her focus back to Octavia. “Come back to us,” she whispers and runs her fingers through Octavia’s hair, trying to tame some of the chaos. She usually keeps it back in a sleek high ponytail and it’s strange to see it curling and twisted and wrapping around her. “I can go to the house and get some of her things for when she wakes up. That way the two of you can stay with her.” Raven says softly.

Lexa reaches out and grabs onto Raven’s hand, “We’ll worry about that later.”

“You should stay with us, if you want to.” Clarke tries to smile but it’s small and watery and on the brink of tears.

Raven nods once and leans over Octavia, fingertips brushing across her face. She just wants her awake again so this weight in the pit of her stomach will go away. If she wakes up there’s a chance she’ll be okay and she can go home and they won’t have to live through the nightmare that is living in a hospital room, the weird half-life that starts up. Purgatory.

“I just don’t want to intrude.” Raven doesn’t quite believe that she has a real chance with them, not yet. She doesn’t want to push her desires on them, or expect her feelings to be reciprocated. She doesn’t know if she’s really ready for them to be or if she has any choice in the matter at all.

Lexa leads Raven around the bed to her and Clarke who takes Raven’s other hand.

“We want you to be here with us, with O, as long as this is where you want to be.” Clarke tugs Raven a little closer. 

They’re all close enough to touch, close enough to hold if Raven were brave enough. 

Lexa drops Raven’s hand and reaches up to caress her cheek. “Asking you to be with us wasn’t just a fair weather offer, Raven. We want you to be with us, good and bad.”

That admission breaks open the hesitation between them. Whether or not they’re really there is yet to be seen but Raven can feel the genuine truth behind the words, the small promise, that really isn’t all that small. There’s an honesty to it that cracks through all their careful bravery.

Clarke and Lexa pull Raven to them, embracing her. Raven’s head falls to Lexa’s left shoulder, Clarke’s head against her right, and Lexa leans her head against Raven’s after she presses a kiss to Clarke’s forehead. They let themselves find comfort in each other’s arms, tears quiet and gentle as they wonder and wait just how long they’ll be here in this state of limbo.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Sometime that evening, after the night shift nurse made first rounds the crew had finally fallen into a rhythm. Two at a time they would sit for thirty minute shifts in Octavia’s room, the rest waiting in the corner of the waiting room where they had started to nest. The doctor had removed her from the ventilator and she was breathing on her own. It was just a matter of time now to see if she woke up properly.

It’s dark outside when Niylah shows up with enough takeout for a small army.

Clarke retrieves Lexa and Raven from Octavia’s room. Everyone settles into the seats huddled around a couple of small tables they had pulled over to make a makeshift dining area. Lexa and Clarke and Raven seat themselves between the other four, careful to keep up the façade that they are unattached.

There isn’t much conversation during dinner, or after. What else is there to say when all the only thoughts are ones about all the things that shouldn’t be said for fear of making them real.

Hours tick by and there’s no real change but the doctors come by every so often and tell whoever is awake at the moment that there isn’t any reason to worry… yet. It’s sometime after three in the morning when a nurse gently wakes Clarke and Bellamy. 

Clarke reaches out for Anya on her other side and soon they’re all blinking bleary eyed at the nurse in the cold harsh fluorescent light. It seems all at once too bright, too clean, and gives that strange hour of the morning an even more unreal tinge. 

Raven reaches out behind Lincoln to trail fingertips down Lexa’s arm, wishing she could take her hand, that Clarke weren’t standing alone, shouldering the reception of the verdict, whatever was important enough that they were woken up in the middle of the night to be told.

It’s rare that good things happen at three a.m. unless they’re already happening at one or two.

“She woke up.”

Three simple words and Clarke feels like her knees might buckle. The breath goes out of her.

“The doctors came by a little while ago and ran a few tests. Your friend is incredibly lucky. She doesn’t seem to have suffered any memory loss, loss of time, or decreased motor function. We’re going to move her down to the general patient wing, room one forty-eight and then you can all go visit again.”

“Why can’t I go see her now?” Bellamy asks, his voice still rough with sleep. There’s an edge there like he’s going to force the issue.

Clarke reaches out a hand and rests it on Bellamy’s forearm. Her voice is gentle, “They’ve got to prep her for the move, it’ll just be easier if we stay out of their way.”

Bellamy puffs up like he’s going to argue, his shoulders back and his jaw clenched. Clarke squeezes his arm and watches him deflate. It’s three in the morning and none of them have the energy for a fight, not even Bellamy who is always on that edge these days, his anger riding him like a circus master.

“How long?” he asks tiredly.

“Maybe an hour,” the nurse offers up a weary smile.

The news should have been a relief, and to an extent it was, but the word luck sticks in Lexa’s throat. Luck shouldn’t be the only thing between them and their world turning upside down. Instead of pulling Clarke aside and holding her tightly, letting the tears threatening to spill out do so, she busies herself with picking up their things. Pillows and blankets and take out containers are reorganized. Niylah helps her fold the blankets and squeezes her hand when they’re done. Lincoln takes the empty take out containers to the trash and comes back to pull Lexa into a hug as she’s scrubbing at a bit of food dried to the small end table. She nearly breaks and cries but thanks him and wishes it hadn’t made her ache more to hold her girlfriend.

Clarke and Lexa and Raven all hover around each other, afraid to touch, afraid to act like they’re in love with Bellamy watching them. He’s always watching, still not trusting Lexa even after all this time.

It’s Raven that finds the moments to keep them from going crazy. All the moments when Bellamy isn’t looking. She’ll take their hands and touch their arms and rub their backs.

As much as it gives them, it isn’t enough.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Octavia wakes with her head pounding and her thoughts thick and slow from pain killers. It’s the second time she’s woken up alone in a hospital bed. She thinks it’s the second time anyway, and that is only if you could call the blurry, semi-conscious state she had been in before awake. This was no better. Her throat is raw and she wonders how long it’s been since she woke last. That first time she had a tube down her throat, pumping air into her lungs, it scrapped as they pulled it out. Last time the sky had been dark, and now it is tinged with the first strains of morning. The room seems unfamiliar.

Last time the doctors had been there, too many of them, along with the nurses, not a single familiar face. They had asked her questions, what she remembered and if she knew who she was, the year, her address, what had happened to her. All manor of things that scratched at her throat and made her brain feel like it was melting. She remembers the shooters, trying to talk one down, trying to save the kids. She doesn’t remember how she got injured but they told her she was thrown against a pillar.

She asked for her girls but the nurse squeezed her shoulder and told her she needed rest and that her friends would be there when she woke up next. The touch on that shoulder coupled with everything else made her want them more, to be safe in their arms. The pain was too much to deal with alone and she wanted them to soothe her and care for her and give her the comfort she needed. It’s been years since she’s wanted to be comforted like this, swaddled like a small child, held in someone’s arms, caressed and loved.

Waking this second time she still wants that. In the back of her mind she feels weak for wanting. It’s no good fighting the feeling and the more her head throbs and melts and runs away from her the more she yearns for a familiar face, until the morphine drip drags her back into sleep she cries.

##  _______________________________________  
  


Octavia has been settled in her new room for most of the morning but she still hasn’t woken again, not completely. There were moments and glimpses of pained consciousness, but she has yet to open her eyes. At least down in the main hospital they’re all allowed to crowd into her room, though now that it’s properly morning the crowd is starting to thin. It’s a weekday and nearly everyone has work.

Lincoln leaves first after he had made an early morning coffee run, needing to shower before he goes in to give a report. Anya leaves with him after promising to be back at lunch. Bellamy hovers around his decision, clearly not wanting to leave his sister’s side but needing to go to work.

“I have to teach a class at nine,” he says it like he wants permission from them to cancel, but the truth is Lexa and Clarke and Raven just want to be left alone with Octavia and each other. 

“I have a class at ten, we can come back together when we’re both done on campus,” Raven offers. She’s more than tempted to text her boys and have them run the lab for the undergrads, but she knows how on edge Clarke and Lexa have been all night and how much their unease has to do with Bellamy.

Clarke picks her head up from where she’s resting at the foot of Octavia’s bed, “I’ll stay with her this morning. Kane already texted saying not to come in.” Clarke yawns. She didn’t manage any sleep. “I can send out a message if she wakes.”

Niylah presses up out of the chair near the head of Octavia’s bed where she’s been curled up quietly for the past few hours, “We should all try to get home and change and eat. We can take shifts today. I don’t have to be at the bar until after dinner so I can run people around and make sure someone is always here.”

“Thank you,” Lexa says softly. “I have to go into work too, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Does anyone need a ride this morning?”

“I will,” Raven leans her head back and rolls it against the wall, not really wanting to think about what teaching class today will take.

“As long as one of us is always here,” Bellamy looks around the room, barely containing a frown as his gaze flicks over Lexa. “I don’t want O waking up alone.” He walks over to his sister. His touch is gentle as he brushes her hair back from her forehead before he kisses it. He whispers to her, words too quiet for anyone else to catch but there are tears in his eyes as he turns away and walks out the door without so much as a goodbye to anyone else.

Lexa, Raven, Clarke, and Niylah look around at each other, a collective sigh of relief draining out of them all.

“Are you certain you’ll be okay here by yourself this morning, Clarke?” Lexa asks. She doesn’t really want to leave but she has a meeting with a client she can’t afford to push back.

“I can come back once I drop off Raven,” Niylah offers.

“My mom is supposed to stop by this morning.” Clarke leans forward in her chair again and leans her head against the edge of Octavia’s bed.

“I can have Monty and Jasper run the lab again if you want me to stay.” Raven chews on her lip and watches Clarke. She knows how delicate Clarke’s relationship with her mother is right now and doesn’t want to leave her friend alone to deal with everything.

Clarke smiles at her softly, there’s almost a laugh in her voice, “I think I can survive a few hours of quiet.”

“Text us as soon as she wakes up.” Lexa rises from her chair and moves to lean over Clarke. She stops herself short. She can’t… they can’t. As much as she wants to, as much as she needs to, the one thing she can’t do right now is kiss Clarke goodbye, not with Niylah still in the room. Tears prick at the corner of her eyes and she swallows them down. Instead of a kiss she squeezes Clarke’s shoulder and it tears her apart.

“Raven, I’ll meet you in the main lobby, okay? I’m going to go make a few calls and see if anyone can cover closing for me tonight.” Niylah turns as she’s at the door. “I’ll bring lunch by around one.” She turns and disappears into the hallway.

Lexa is still leaning close to Clarke, unable to pull herself away.

“Do you think she knows?” Clarke asks quietly before pulling Lexa down for another kiss. “I love you.”

“Anya wouldn’t have said anything,” Lexa glances to Raven as she straightens up, “We should talk about that once O is better, about the four of us, and who knows. I hate hiding but I’m afraid that we still have reason to.”

Raven’s been watching the exchange and she isn’t sure how she feels. On one hand she feels like this truly means the girls are serious about her, but she doesn’t know how. She still can’t see what they see in her, or why they think they need her. It baffles her because it’s barely been two days since she decided they could try, until now they’ve just been friends… and now they’re in a weird limbo between friends and girlfriends, and yet...

“I think we’ll have a lot to talk about,” Raven says. “One day at a time though?” She’s nervous as she crosses the room, trying to navigate her feelings like one would a boulder filled river. She can’t deny that she wants the trio, not just as a whole, but individually, each differently, her heart  pulling her in three directions and different velocities. Octavia feels like an old friend when suddenly the possibility of what’s between them changes. Clarke, is awkward first dates crossed with a depth of understanding she didn’t expect from her. Lexa is…  _ Lexa _ . They’ve always read each other like an open book since day one, like they’re somehow entwined.

Lexa folds Raven into a hug. “One day at a time.” She pulls back slowly and the draw is there again with their faces so close. Raven shakes her head and breaks the moment before they dwell on it, before they have a chance to act on it. “I’ll walk you out to Niylah’s truck.”

By the time they’re packed up Clarke has climbed into the narrow bed next to Octavia. She’s laying on her side with her nose pressed to Octavia’s shoulder. Her fingers are twined with Octavia’s, the hand that doesn’t have the IV. Lexa almost can’t bring herself to leave, wanting to crawl into the bed on Octavia’s other side, but Raven’s hand in hers reminds her that she’ll be back sooner if she just goes now. She says goodbye to Clarke quietly, not wanting to disturb her.

The silence that falls after everyone leaves feels heavy around Clarke, after a full day and night surrounded by everyone the air feels too still, the room too empty. There’s no one to turn to with her thoughts, no one to take care of, and with the absence of that she feels all the worry and panic she’s been ignoring wash over her.

Octavia is okay, she tells herself. Initially no brain damage that the doctors had marked. She knew herself and the date and most of what happened, but her brain is still swollen and she’s still sleeping more than not and Clarke can’t help but let the panic rise in her chest. She settles down against Octavia more closely and tries to calm her frantic heart.

She loses count of how long she lays there counting Octavia’s breaths. All she knows is the steady rise and fall of her girlfriend’s chest, the slow steady beat of her heart, and the way she curls into Clarke even in her sleep. It’s just them.

It feels like a small forever since it’s been just the two of them.

Clarke immediately feels guilty for the thought, for missing the quiet of only having one partner. She loves Lexa entirely, and Raven… well they’re trying, seeing what will happen. Raven seems to fit so seamlessly with the trio that Clarke can’t help but think that they might truly soon be four. With that will come more need to navigate alone time in pairs. Time to just be, to talk, to kiss, to hold each other and just love.

As much as she adores the time they spend together this is a different kind of intimacy, one she and Octavia haven’t dared to take advantage of in months now.

Therein maybe lies the problem. Clarke traces Octavia’s face, fingertips brushing against the edge of the warm purplish bruise and swollen eye socket. When things are bad for Clarke they avoid each other, skirt around topics, retreat into themselves so they don’t break on each other in the storm that is Clarke’s depression.

Clarke can feel tears drip down her cheeks, across her nose. She can’t help but feel guilty, wondering if perhaps Octavia made a reckless decision because Clarke’s recent depressive episode threw her off balance like it always does. Clarke makes a mental note that they need to work on that. They need to try to be better, for themselves and for each other.

She feels Octavia stir first before she wakes fully, the gentle squeeze of Octavia’s hand around hers, her nose nuzzling against the top of Clarke’s head.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice sounds like hell and feels worse.

“Yeah,” Clarke shifts in the tiny bed, careful not to jostle Octavia. “I’m here.”

“Good,” Octavia murmurs. “Lex?”

“She had to go into the office for a couple hours, but she’ll be back soon for lunch.” Clarke reaches behind her for the cup of ice chips the nursing assistant has kept replenished for when Octavia woke up. She feeds a couple to her. “The others should be back soon too.”

“Others?” Her brain feels like there’s a disconnect between thoughts and words and like any connection is liable to melt the circuitry.

“Lexa, Raven, Lincoln-”

“He okay?”

“Mostly just worried about you, but Anya’s with him, so he isn’t alone. I think they might be a thing. But I also thought there was something between her and Niylah, so who knows.” She continues feeding Octavia ice chips as she rambles, words tumbling out as she tries to make things feel normal. “Everyone stayed all night, Bellamy too.”

“Sorry.”

Clarke kisses Octavia’s unbruised cheek. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Bellamy.” Octavia mumbles. There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach at the mention of his name and her head goes fuzzy.

“He behaved himself, mostly.” Clarke murmurs, she doesn’t want to bring up how he kept an eye on her and Lexa all night, made it impossible for them to be there for each other, even as friends. “Don’t worry about anything right now. It’s just us. I’ve got you.” She smoothes down Octavia’s hair and presses a kiss to the side of her head.

Octavia nods and nestles down into Clarke’s arms, even though she’s waking up more. She wants to cuddle properly but is worried about the IV in her arm. She settles for burying her face in a wave of blonde hair until the pain and nausea passes, afraid it won’t ever pass.

They lay there like that for a while, exchanging soft touches and Clarke holding onto the thought that Octavia will heal, that she’ll be okay, that she’s alive and here and they’re together, and Octavia just holding on, subconsciously seeking the comfort she’s been denied the past day. She clings to Clarke, head swirling and mushy. She can’t complete a thought before it’s swept away, broken in the throbbing mess of her brain.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia has barely started to lift herself off the couch when Lexa jumps up and nudges Octavia back down.

“O, what do you need? I’ll get it.”

It’s not yet been two days since Octavia was released from the hospital with strict orders to rest. She’s off work for at least a week while the swelling in her brain continues to recede. She’s got several tests to pass before the force will clear her again, even for desk work. The last thing she wants to do is spend the next week or more on the couch doing nothing. Even playing video games all week doesn’t sound enticing.

She feels weak and useless like she’s incapable of the simplest things. 

“Just a glass of water, I can walk to the kitchen.” Octavia starts to stand again.

“I’m already up, I can get it.” Lexa tries to keep her voice cheerful, tries to hold onto all the positive things the doctors had said. She isn’t sure how long she’ll be able to hold onto the façade. Octavia is snappish and refusing to just relax and Lexa doesn’t know how far she should push.

They’re standing face to face neither moving. Lexa doesn’t let Octavia pass and Octavia refuses to sit back down even though standing made her head pound.

“Can I do this for you?” Lexa can’t keep the tremble out of her voice.

Octavia huffs and drops back onto the couch but doesn’t argue. It makes her head swim. She crosses her arms and scowls. It’s not that she’s upset with Lexa, it’s that she’s upset that Lexa is right, that the doctors are right. The bruise on her face is fading, purple to green and yellow, and the rest of her body is fine. It’s just her head.

She’ll feel fine for hours at a time, then she moves too quickly or moves at all and her head swims, pounds, and generally makes her wish she was still unconscious. Sometimes all she has to do is think too hard and she triggers it. There’s little rhyme or reason, beyond the longer it’s been since she slept the more easily she aggravates her head and herself.

Her head swims and pulses. She hasn’t moved again but all of a sudden she feels like she might pass out, or fall over, or throw up. Octavia lets herself fall sideways onto the couch; her head throbs with the impact of it. She feels terrible, and hates that she feels terrible. The worse she seems to feel the more irritable she is. The more irritable she is, the worse she feels. And she can’t tell what is her and what is the head injury. Either way she knows she needs to rein herself in before she reacts to something in a way she’ll regret.

Just because her brain is injured doesn’t mean she isn’t responsible for her actions.

Lexa comes back in and sets a glass of water down on the coffee table without a word, immediately turning to leave.

“Thank you.” Octavia reaches out with her foot to stop Lexa from walking off. “I’m sorry, Lexa. I shouldn’t be snapping at you, you’re just trying to help.” She sounds almost as exhausted as she feels.

Octavia doesn’t miss the way Lexa’s eyes widen in surprise before she controls her reaction. Lexa nods and makes to continue walking.

“Will you sit with me?” Octavia nearly begs. She can’t blame Lexa for saying no if she does, as she’s been snapping at her and Clarke all day.

Lexa pauses and looks up at the ceiling as if she might find answers there. She doesn’t have much else to do today, and normally she wouldn’t mind curling up with Octavia, but with Octavia vacillating between overly clingy and overly snappish Lexa doesn’t know how much more emotional whiplash she can take.

“Let me go get a book and I’ll be back, but  _ only _ if you try to stop taking everything out on me and Clarke.” Lexa turns slowly and looks down at Octavia who is looking up at her with pleading eyes. She’s nearly at wounded puppy status with how much that look is begging. It doesn’t help that the more the bruise on her face heals the more it spreads and the worse the discoloration looks.

“I promise.”

The sound is so small and soft and sweet… and almost scared that Lexa finds herself leaning over to kiss Octavia despite being upset with her. The kiss is chaste, more of a promise of her own than anything else. All they can do is try to be better, try to be there for each other.

Lexa runs upstairs and is on her way back down with the book she’s been slowly reading when she runs into Clarke coming out of her studio, covered in paint, exhaustion evident on her face. They stand there for a moment, both startled, both feeling bone weary. With Octavia’s injury the past few days have felt like a small lifetime. 

Clarke steps closer not quite touching Lexa, being careful to not smear her with still damp paint. Lexa presses her forehead to Clarke’s.

Neither says anything, but neither needs to. They know why they’re tired, why they’re achy and bordering on melancholic. Both have their eyes closed. They stay like that, forehead to forehead, not holding each other, but breathing each other in. There’s no drive to move, no need for anything more than just being there for that moment, taking solace in slow even breathing and the gentle pressure of their foreheads pressed together.

It’s the start of something building between them, an aching need to be taken care of so that they can continue to support each other and Octavia.

There’s a knock on the front door downstairs and they jump apart, startled, suddenly breathing heavily. Another few moments and Lexa would have forgotten for a little while that she had promised Octavia she would be right back.

Clarke pecks Lexa on the cheek and wipes her hands on her shirt as she hurries down the stairs to get to the door before Octavia has a chance to get up. She tries not to think about how in that brief moment she had gone from exhausted to no less exhausted but desperately needing Lexa. One breath, one touch, and they were both ready to tumble headfirst into bed. There’s no time for that right now. 

Clarke stops halfway between the staircase and the front door and turns to look at Lexa. Octavia is crying softly on the couch, her breath uneven and labored. They exchange a look, the one they’ve been sharing too much these last few days, how do they get through this when the girl that has been their rock through everything is the one that’s uneven and needing them?

Lexa steps up to Clarke again, whispering so Octavia doesn’t hear them, “You get the door, I’m going to take Octavia outside, maybe the fresh air and the cold will help her calm down.”

Clarke nods, “I’ll be out in a few.” She barely has time to turn before Lexa grabs her shoulders and catches her up in a kiss. She meets her with the same intensity, needing her, lips parted and kisses desperate, aching for more than the few scant seconds they have before they pull apart.

Another knock on the door.

Clarke stands in front of the door only then realizing she’s in boxer briefs and a half buttoned flannel. She tries to wipe the still damp paint off her hands once more before she opens the door. 

Raven is standing there in the cold October evening. The sky is already darkening and the only source illuminating the porch is a bare light bulb. She’s clearly been pacing, debating if she should wait, wondering why it took one of them so long to answer the door. She looks at Clarke with a mixture of happiness and trepidation that melts Clarke’s heart.

For a moment it’s just them, standing there between inside and outside, the cold air wrapping around them as they try not to smile at each other. Raven left when they brought Octavia home saying she wanted to give them space, she’d retreated before any of them could argue. Her absence had been noted, but now she’s here, holding what smells like dinner and dessert and looking like the world.

Her beauty is effortless. Her hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and it’s clear she hasn’t slept much more than they have, but there’s a light in her warm brown eyes and Clarke can’t help but feel that Lexa was right to ask them about dating Raven. She’s never seen Raven quite so alive, even as she’s clearly nervous.

“Hey,” Clarke breathes out and leans against the edge of the door, a smile curls at the edges of her mouth and she bites her bottom lip.

“I know I should have called first,” the words tumble out, “I just wanted to surprise you all with dinner, I know it must be rough still… after…” She holds up the multiple dishes, one full of rice and beans and veggies and pork, the other full of brigadeiro. She doesn’t say how she was going crazy alone in her apartment. “I took the bus over so we’ll need to put this back in the oven but, I mean you can do that, I can get the dishes later, and-”

Clarke is grinning at Raven, the more she rambles, the harder Clarke is smiling and she can’t help it. “We would have come to pick you up. It’s dark out.” She takes the dishes from Raven and sets them just inside the door on the little storage bench before reaching for Raven and tugging her inside as well.

“I know, I just wasn’t sure if…” Raven glances down at her hand in Clarke’s as if only just realizing now that Clarke hasn’t let her go. She looks back up to see delight and mischief in Clarke’s eyes. Her breath catches in her throat.

Clarke lifts Raven’s hand to her lips and kisses her knuckles. “We mean this.”

Raven steps closer to Clarke, unzipping her jacket and and shucking it in one smooth motion. She closes the door behind herself and hangs her jacket up, each movement bringing her into Clarke’s personal space. She may not believe yet that this is really real and lasting but she knows she will cling to it as long as it is offered. Every time they touch her it takes away just a little bit more that Wick was the last person to touch her, the last person to know her intimately. Their love and kindness is washing her clean.

One day maybe she’ll be able to put what he did behind her.

“Of course you do, this is me we’re talking about after all.” Raven smirks. It’s easier to be flirtatious than to acknowledge the fear dwelling in her throat. Raven leans in, her hands settle on Clarke’s hips over the thin material of her boxer briefs. She kisses the corner of her mouth. It’s everything she has not to tremble as she does so. This is how she protects herself, bravado and flirting harder than maybe she would have, even if every word is genuine. She can’t help but fear that this won’t last.

Clarke gasps as Raven tugs her close enough that their hips touch, clearly affected by the proximity and the sudden turn in Raven’s demeanor. Her eyes go dark and Raven laughs. She squeezes Clarke quickly and brushes against her as she reaches for the food she brought, intent on feeding the girls that are quickly stealing her heart.

“Where are Octavia and Lexa?”

It takes a moment, but Clarke finds her voice. “Out back, it’s been a rough day for Octavia.”

Raven makes herself at home moving around the kitchen, thinking as she places dinner in the oven to warm. “That’s to be expected, she had a traumatic brain injury.”

This feels right, being back in the Blake-Griffin-Woods house. Even with the circumstances as they are. She has purpose, she feels needed. 

Raven wets a clean kitchen rag and leans against the counter in front of Clarke. Confusion crosses Clarke’s face for a split second before Raven wraps the cloth around her own hand and reaches out for Clarke’s. She takes it gently cleaning dried streaks of paint from each of her fingers, the palm, the back of her hand, wrist, forearm, elbow, gentle strokes and occasional prolonged eye contact.

“And you? How are you?” Raven prods. She knows how it is caring for a loved one when they’re injured or sick, how taxing it is, how it seems like your whole purpose in life shifts to be about that one person, how you almost fade away into the background. Even then you’ll keep pushing, keep making the effort. She refolds the cloth to expose a clean spot and takes Clarke’s face gently in her hands to rub at a streak of purple that has found its way into her eyebrow.

Clarke nuzzles her cheek into Raven’s palm and closes her eyes. “I’m tired,” she whispers.

Raven kisses the spot she’s just finished cleaning and wraps her arms around Clarke. Her lips brush against Clarke’s ear, “I know.”

##  _______________________________________  
  


Lexa wraps the blanket around her shoulders and settles back into one of the reclining wooden deck chairs. She tugs Octavia, who collapses against her willingly, into her lap. Wrapping the blanket around them she rocks Octavia gently, fingers running through her hair, soft kisses against her forehead. To her there’s something calming about the cold air and the warm blanket and another body to wrap around. Anya used to sit with her at night when she was sick when she was little. And while Octavia is not sick, she is in need of care and comfort.

It isn’t long before Octavia is crying in earnest again, quiet sobs as if her voice has been stolen. Her mouth open in a silent scream, but the only sound she makes is the sharp inhales as she finds herself having to breathe again.

Lexa tells her that it’s okay, it’s okay to cry, to be scared and hurt, that it’s okay to need this. Octavia has always been their level headed girl when it came to keeping emotions in check over emotional moments, taking care of her and Clarke before thinking of herself and it breaks Lexa’s heart to see her so unsteady. She’d do anything to help Octavia find her strength again.

Night descends around them as they rest there on the deck. Lexa watches the stars peek out of the twilight and strokes Octavia’s back, waiting for her to be ready to talk or to fall asleep, waiting and holding onto her. She wonders who was at the door that is keeping Clarke from them and thinks that it must have been Raven that came over. Octavia nuzzles down into Lexa’s neck and the thought is pulled from her before she can dwell on it because Octavia is whispering a litany of apologies against her neck.

Lexa places her hand over Octavia’s heart and feels it beat frantically against her palm. Whatever has been going through her head has her worked up. She’s alive, so very alive, and in so much pain, more than that in her head.

“What is it, O?” Lexa kisses her cheek and nudges her to sit up so they can look at each other in the twilight.

Octavia shakes her head and hides her face against Lexa. “You don’t have anything more to apologize for,” she starts having long since forgiven Octavia for lashing out earlier. “I know your brain is making things hard right now, but that will pass. Clarke knows it too.”

“It’s not just that.” Octavia chokes out the words, broken and almost lost in her tears.

Lexa rubs her hand against Octavia’s chest where it rests, “I need you to breathe, okay. Sit up.” To her surprise Octavia complies shifting so their legs tangle together. She leans forward into Lexa’s hand, letting the pressure of it keep her upright. Lexa slides her other hand under Octavia’s  shirt and rubs along her spine as the other girl calms her breathing. “When you’re ready talk to me.”

They stay like that longer than Lexa expects, her arm holding up Octavia is aching and the muscles are starting to burn, but she doesn’t move, not until Octavia leans back against Lexa so they’re both looking up at the stars.

“I keep fucking up everything. I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like I’m stumbling blind and I can’t figure out how to fix it. I ignored how bad Clarke’s depression was, I’ve almost lost her twice now and you’re the only reason we’re okay. And I nearly ruined any chances the three of us had… and now with Raven, I’m afraid I won’t be able to get that right. I keep acting without thinking and hurting everyone around me.”

“You are impulsive, but you don’t ignore the repercussions that impulsivity has.” Lexa kisses the soft patch of skin behind Octavia’s ear. “We love you, O. I love you. That means good and bad, all of you.” She holds Octavia closer not sure where this is coming from or how to make Octavia feel like she’ll be okay. “Whatever you’re feeling you don’t have to figure it out alone.” Her hand has found it’s way back over Octavia’s heart and she scratches the skin lightly with her fingernails. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for everything.”

Octavia burrows down in silence, but this time her breathing stays even.

The sun sets completely and only the brightest stars are visible because of the city lights, the bright gleam of downtown not far away and just across the river. They lay there, breathing in tandem, slow, deep, even breaths, their heartbeats falling into sync. Lexa thinks they might fall asleep there when Octavia speaks again.

Her voice is small in a way that she rarely is, “I just want to be able to take care of you all… and I don’t know how to do that anymore. How do I do that when someone can hurt me this easily. They almost…” Her voice breaks, full of tears.

“Shhhh.” Lexa whispers against her ear and tightens her grip around Octavia. “They didn’t and you’re here, okay?” She can feel her own heart start to race and pound against her chest. She knows Octavia feels it too. “You saved those kids, and you’re alive.”

Lexa bites back tears and tightens her hold on Octavia until her arms shake with it. She hates to think that they nearly lost Octavia but right then, it’s all she can think about, and it shakes her to her core.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke came outside not long after Octavia opened up to tell them that dinner was ready and don’t worry because Raven had cooked and was over. There had been some more crying, and a lot of hugging, and Octavia had fallen into each of them, letting them hold her and comfort her as they talked and ate. It was a break from the fear and the pain and the disaster of the last several days. 

Things were starting to feel like home.

There was tentative flirting, and light touching, and figuring out how Raven fit into the dynamic as their fourth instead of just their friend. Raven was the one to draw out the most smiles from Octavia.

It was good seeing her light up again and none of them wanted the night to end.

“I should go before I miss the last bus,” Raven says sadly.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll drive you home.” Lexa squeezes Raven knee.

The four of them are curled up on the couch like they used to do for movie nights before feelings started happening and they all started to worry about what the casual touches might mean. Octavia is curled up asleep in Clarke’s lap, her legs spread out across Raven and Lexa’s laps.

“You can stay you know,” Clarke offers and hides her face against Octavia’s hair. “It’s been good having you here tonight.”

Raven holds her breath at the thought, it tugs at her and she wants it. She wants to be here, belong here… but she isn’t ready yet. She doesn’t think they are ready yet. “I don’t have any of my things and I have to teach in the morning.” She leans her head against Clarke’s shoulder and hopes that she understands that she would rather stay.

“Another time,” Lexa says. She picks up Octavia’s feet off her lap and stands up. “I’ve got an early morning too.”

Raven smiles up at her thankfully. The progression of their relationship is like tumbling down a hill, they can’t stop the forward momentum and they keep picking up speed, but at the same time because they’re already so close it feels like some things are going more slowly than they should ever go.

It starts raining as Lexa drives her home, the radio is on low, almost drowned out by the sound of fat heavy raindrops battering the car. They don’t talk, both afraid of what they might say. They haven’t had the chance to talk, just the two of them since Lexa asked Raven out. Everything that has happened, then and since, sits between them.

Raven thanks Lexa softly for the ride, already starting to open the door when she feels Lexa pull her back into the car, across the center console and into her arms.

She breathes her in, mint and petrichor, and an underlying scent that is unique to Lexa. Raven tries not to think about how she smells like home, how her steady heartbeat is a comfort. She fails and pulls Lexa tighter against her.

The feeling of Lexa pressed against her twists through her heart and down to her core. Unlike last time when they couldn’t kiss, they could now. She wonders if Clarke has found the time to tell Lexa and Octavia that they kissed that day before Octavia was injured. Her fingers tangle in Lexa’s hair and she holds on. She needs to know Lexa is ready first, no matter how much she’s wanting, how much she may flirt, she can’t bring herself to make the first move.

Lexa presses her face into Raven’s neck feeling her heartbeat against her cheek, the pulse just touching the corner of her mouth. The little flutter of life beneath her lips undoes what little resolve she has left when it comes to Raven.

Raven who is in her arms at last as someone she’s allowed to fall in love with. Someone from whom she doesn’t have to hide her feelings. She presses her lips to Raven’s pulse letting herself relish in the life just beneath Raven’s skin.

Raven gasps at the feeling of Lexa’s lips on her skin. The comfort of the hug shifting suddenly to need. Her heartbeat is thick and heavy in her throat and she isn’t sure she can function beyond the labored breathing she’s suddenly aware of, both Lexa’s and hers. 

Lexa drags her nose along Raven’s jaw, and across her cheek, stopping just shy of their mouths meeting. They’re breathing at each other. They’ve been here before but they don’t have to stop. There’s an unspoken  _ yes _ between them. Lexa cups Raven’s face in her hands and kisses her softer than the touch of a feather.

Raven wants to dive into the kiss hard and fast, she’s been dying for this moment for too long. She wants the taste of Lexa on her lips when they pull apart. She wants a kiss that she will feel for days. But she lets Lexa take the lead, and  Lexa shifts, a barely there touch as their noses brush, and Lexa kisses her just as softly a second time Raven knows that this kiss will echo through her until she dies.

Lexa’s lips tremble against Raven’s when she feels Raven kiss her back. Her heart breaks open and spills out between her lips, sharp and aching and raw. And the  _ need _ , she can feel it rolling off the both of them, how they’re trying to hold themselves in check for fear of diving in too intensely but it’s evident that neither of them were prepared for this.

Not the way that the kiss feels like coming home, or the way it feels like the end of a long awaited moment. The prospect of the future. Their hands gently scramble at bare skin, tangling in hair, slowly betraying their unravelling control. 

The kiss shifts from soft to heady. Raven sucks on Lexa’s tongue. Lexa nips at Raven’s lip. A fog starts to build on the inside of the windows, their breathing heavy between kisses. Raven moans as Lexa kisses down her neck, a hand tangled hard and firm in her hair, pulling her head sharply to the side. The whole shift sends an electric shock straight between her legs and she feels herself getting wet with an aching quickness.

They’re kissing and fumbling with Lexa’s seatbelt and making sure the car is in park and Lexa is halfway into Raven’s lap when she smacks her head against the top of the car. The kiss ends abruptly with pain shooting through Lexa’s head.

Raven’s hands are on Lexa in a different way, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Lexa nods and breathes out. “Yeah. Just startled.” Lexa laughs and grins when Raven smiles and shakes her head.

Raven smoothes her hands over Lexa’s face and hair, wanting to pull her down for another kiss, softer and slower. 

“Maybe we should pick this up later, when we aren’t trying to fit in the front seat of my car.” Lexa hates for the moment to end, but it’s late and they both have work in the morning.

“Yeah, let me take you out at least before we jump each other in the backseat.” Raven winks. Lexa blushes.

“Text me tomorrow and we’ll make plans?” Lexa sinks back into the driver’s seat of her Lexus. “Maybe without the making out in the car like a couple of teenagers? We have entire houses for that.”

Raven laughs and Lexa thinks it’s one of the most beautiful sounds. “I like the sound of that.”

Lexa cups her hand behind Raven’s head and pulls her down for one more kiss. She’s smiling too big to kiss properly but she can feel that Raven is too and they part with laughter bubbling between them.

Raven opens the door and gets out of the car, only ducking back in at the last second. “Goodnight, Lexa.” She lunges across the car and crashes against Lexa in one last kiss before straightening up just as quickly and shutting the door.

“Goodnight, Raven,” Lexa whispers to the empty car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	26. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 5 | 9 months ago

The constant headache has almost gone away but Octavia still doesn’t feel like herself. She’s trying to give herself the benefit of the doubt because on a personal level she was off kilter before the incident. There had been a scant few hours between Raven telling them she wanted to try dating the three of them and her brain being scrambled.

Octavia rolls over on the couch and reaches for her phone and the remote control. She almost turns the TV on but the noise has been too much lately. Instead she drops the remote onto her stomach and holds her phone in her hands debating what she wants, who she wants to talk to.

She wants Clarke and Lexa home but it’s lunch time on a work day and they won’t be back for hours yet. And even though it’s confusing she wants to talk about dating Raven. She hasn’t been alone with Raven since the decision, and when it’s the four of them it doesn’t feel so bad bringing her into the cuddle pile, but her heart seizes when she thinks about those platonic touches becoming more.

Truth is she’s scared to tell her girlfriends that she still isn’t sure about dating Raven, not when she knows they’ve been spending time alone with her. She isn’t ready to know if the relationships have progressed but at the same time she almost needs to know. Have they kissed? Did it feel right? Does Raven fill a need they have?

She’s afraid like she hasn’t been before. Octavia knows she’s been  _ more _ afraid but this is a different kind of fear. This is a kind of self-doubt she isn’t familiar with. Unfortunately it leaves her with few places to turn.

Lexa is out of the question, Octavia knows how much it would hurt her and how much it would shatter any chance they had with Raven if Octavia voiced her doubts before she really knew her mind. Clarke is equally as unlikely, how could she tell Clarke that she’s having reservations over the same thing that she had insisted Clarke accept. And there’s no way she could go to Raven.

Part of her brain tells her she could maybe go to Lincoln but since the incident he’s been watching her with equal parts guilt and sorrow as if he blames himself and she can’t put this out there between them, not right now, not yet, though of all the people in her life she knows she could go to him.

Octavia groans and drops her phone to her chest. She has a serious problem and its name is Raven Reyes.

In the back of her mind she hears the inkling of a suggestion that she can feel in her gut.  _ Anya _ . Lexa’s sister has been there for them since the beginning. 

She taps out a text and waits, it’s lunchtime and she just might be able to catch Anya on a break.

Ten minutes

_ Anya 12:34pm : _ Everything okay Octavia?

Octavia chews on her lip. Yes, but also not at all.

_ Octavia 12:35pm : _ I need advice. You did a lot of research when Lexa came out, right?

_ Anya 12:35pm : _ Having an identity crisis, Blake?

_ Octavia 12:37pm : _ close enough to… can you bring lunch and promise to keep a secret?

_ Anya 12:40pm : _ Give me an hour, when should Lexa and Clarke be home?

_ Octavia 12:40pm :  _ C @ 4:30, L @ 6 today

She can almost feel Anya’s eyes rolling over the text but she doesn’t care. She needs to talk before she bursts with confusion and right now her head is telling her Anya is the only one she can talk to as strange as that seems.

Octavia sleeps for most of the next hour, only waking when she hears the front door close.

“Octavia?” Anya calls out softly yet somehow sounding vaguely annoyed.

Reaching up a hand, Octavia tries to find her voice as she pushes herself into a sitting position. “Here.” She rubs her eyes and stretches and tries to will her brain into awake but sometimes it’s slow to respond still. The doctor said she would need to be patient and rest and go slow for a while but she should be fine. Sometimes it feels like she’ll never be back to normal.

When she opens her eyes again Anya is seated next to her on the couch and unpacking take out containers. “You didn’t say what you wanted so I got dim sum.”

“Nah that’s…” Octavia stumbles over her words. “That’s good.”

Now that Anya is here she doesn’t know where to start, or how to. She’s so uncertain what she’s really trying to make sense of and she’s never been good at talking. That was one of the things that made being with Clarke easy, they’d known each other so much that they didn’t have to talk about things most of the time.

She can’t get away with not talking anymore though, not if she wants to get this right.

“We have about two hours before Clarke gets home, and I’m guessing you want to be done talking before then or else you would have just waited for your girlfriends to get home and talked to them. So you should probably start doing the talking thing.” Anya snaps a pair of disposable chopsticks in half hand hands them to Octavia. “Also, Lexa is my sister, I have infinite patience when it comes to waiting.” She turns back to the dim sum without another word.

Octavia rolls the chopsticks between her hands to clean off any splinters and picks up a dumpling. 

Maybe the best way to do this is to just dive in. “I’m just going to assume that you know your sister asked us if we could ask Raven out.”

“That happened a lot faster than I expected,” Anya sounds vaguely impressed but Octavia ignores the comment instead trying to push forward through the thoughts that won’t solidify in her head.

“And that Raven said yes.”

Anya nods her head and Octavia can’t quite tell if it’s an affirmative or an acknowledgement.

“That’s basically my problem.” Octavia finishes lamely.

Anya raises an eyebrow as she chews a dumpling. Octavia shrugs.

“I thought you were close with Raven.”

“I  _ am _ .” Octavia stabs a dumpling with her chopsticks. 

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know if I want to have sex with her. I mean, I want to want to. She’s beautiful and funny and pretty much the toughest person I know. I like cuddling with her, I like being able to be close with her. And like, Lexa wants her in our bed, and I think Clarke would be more than okay with that, but I’ve only ever been with three people… I’ve just never wanted to sleep with anyone other than Lincoln, Clarke, and Lexa. The desire just… it isn’t there.” Octavia abandons the stabbed dumpling and curls her feet up under herself on the couch.

Anya sets down her chopsticks and slowly turns to Octavia. She looks over her slowly not saying anything and settles into the couch so she’s facing Octavia instead of the food.

Octavia chews on her lip, she hasn’t often talked about how she identifies, not with anyone she wasn’t involved with. It’s never been an issue before. The words stick in her throat. “I’m demisexual, but like, I still really like sex, just only with people I’m in love with, and that doesn’t happen much.”

Anya nods, “I’d gathered that middle part after walking in on the three of you one too many times.” There’s a gleam in her eye though that tells Octavia she’s teasing her.

“When it happened with Lexa it was really unexpected- I still had feelings for Clarke and then I had feelings for Lexa too. I couldn’t not care about either of them. I didn’t know how to deal with it.”

Their friendship has been building slowly over the past few years. At first Anya was intimidating and closed off, but she’s opened up like an impossibly slow blooming flower. Still, she plays her feelings close to her chest.

“How did you know you wanted to fuck Lexa?”

Octavia drops the dumpling she’s moving to her mouth into her lap.

“You’re the one that asked for  _ my _ help. You could have called Lincoln.”

Octavia rolls her eyes and saves the dumpling from getting lost in the blanket before examining it and popping it into her mouth anyway.

“She grinned at me over terrible burnt morning coffee one day and I don’t know, I just  _ knew _ .” Octavia frowns because she doesn’t see how that was helpful. “My heart did this flip flop thing that it would only do when Clarke would look at me and then it…  _ I knew _ , okay.” She’s not ready to exactly tell Anya how much Lexa smiling at her makes her want to do NC-17 rated things to her little sister.

“And Clarke?”

“It was finals week and she was a mess and it was two in the morning and we were watching Netflix and she… I… all of a sudden watching her eat popcorn I knew I wanted to be more than her friend.” She leans forward, drowning the next dumpling in soy sauce. “She looked different to me all of a sudden. It’s not like we hadn’t spent a hundred nights on that couch watching Netflix instead of studying or sleeping… but I just looked at her and I realized I wanted to kiss her.”

“Before those moments, which I’m guessing were significant and unexpected because it’s been years and your memories are vivid, how did you feel about them?”

“I kind of always  _ loved  _ them both, you know.” Octavia squirms trying to connect the disparate feelings and thoughts in her head.

“What about Raven?”

“She’s one of my best friends, of course I love her, I’m just not  _ in _ love with her and that’s the problem.” 

“You can’t force yourself to feel something.”

“I know that, I just don’t want to mess things up before I have the chance to fall in love with her,” Octavia grumbles and slams her head back against the couch. She regrets it instantly as stars burst to life in front of her eyes.

“Hey now,” Anya reaches out for Octavia and holds her head still, one hand on her forehead. Her touch is cooler than Octavia expected. “Don’t do that. One, you’ve got a small army of women that would come after me if I let you hurt yourself again. Two, stop beating yourself up because you can’t control the uncontrollable.”

Octavia can feel tears prick her eyes and she hates that she’s crying again, she feels so helpless lately. The smallest thing sets her off things that wouldn’t have even phased her before the injury. It’s like her emotions are running rampant. “I can’t ruin this chance for her, Anya.”

She closes her eyes and lets herself cry. At least if she’s going to cry she won’t make herself watch Anya watching her break apart. She doesn’t think she could stand that, fearing a look of pity. 

Octavia doesn’t expect to feel Anya tug her down so her head is resting in Anya’s lap, or the fingers that start to run through her hair, gently untangling it. She can count on one hand the number of times Anya has initiated a hug between them, even fewer are the number of times Anya has offered her comfort. It isn’t that they wouldn’t be there for each other, it’s just that, until now, there hasn’t been a reason. The gesture feels all at once familiar and foreign.

“You love them all, yes?” Anya asks softly, deft fingers working on a knot.

“Yeah,” Octavia sniffles.

Anya’s fingers scratch along Octavia’s scalp, “That’s what matters, just love them as best you can and give yourself time.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia has barely moved in the last week, let alone started to work out, and she’s going stir crazy sitting alone in the house all day even though Clarke has been spending more time working from home and Raven’s been over between classes, and Anya, Niylah, and Lincoln have all been stopping by as well. None of them are here right now though which is how she’s found herself in workout leggings and a sports bra in the doorway to her little gym.

It’s her corner of the house, the one that is just hers, though Lexa will use it, and on the rare occasion Clarke. When the weather has been bad she and Raven have spent the afternoon in there. If Raven is going to be around more the space will probably become more communal, but it’s her space first.

She doesn’t know why she hasn’t gone in. 

Really she’s trying to ignore that running upstairs to change and come back down made her head pound. Her workout routine has been consistent but haphazard. She’s never really been one for focusing in and doing things logically, just enough, she’s in shape, she can hold her own during physical exams on the force. She has no idea how to start working out again gently.

Octavia turns and looks back out toward the front door, maybe she should go for a run. Running is straightforward. She doesn’t move though because her head is only now not pounding from the increased blood flow. Instead she pushes off the door frame and makes her way over to her punching bag, wrapping her knuckles. Maybe she can work off her excess energy and frustration in more than one way.

Only a week and it feels like it’s been at least a month since the last time she exercised. Her muscles already feel weaker than she remember and uncoordinated. Her skin more delicate and feeling raw after only a few punches. She pushes through and keeps going, fists pounding into the heavy bag, the occasional kick that reverberates throughout her body. There’s a rhythm to it, a small dance, and if she keeps going she can ignore the pressure in her head. The sweat dripping down her spin makes her feel accomplished, and the endorphins in her blood keep her moving when her arms start to get heavy.

“Octavia?”

Clarke’s voice startles her and she spins. The world keeps spinning and she drops to the ground on her hands and knees. She can feel her pulse throb against her temples and for a moment she thinks she might throw up. Before she can even look up Clarke is in front of her hand running over her face and shoulders.

She isn’t quite certain she’s ever seen Clarke so worried about her.

“I’m okay. Really.” Octavia grits her teeth and tries to stand but Clarke is holding onto her forearms and not letting her. “I just turned too quickly.”

Clarke runs her hand across Octavia’s forehead and stares into her eyes looking for signs of concussion. She’s nearly certain she’s shaking harder than Octavia is, but her heart is pounding and all the fear of seeing Octavia hooked up to a ventilator again rushes over her. The further away from the days in the hospital the less steady Clarke is feeling, the more she’s feeling the weight of what nearly happened. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I know, I just couldn’t sit around another day. I’m so sick of not being able to  _ do _ anything. They haven’t even cleared me to go back to desk work yet.” Octavia slumps back onto her heels and pouts.

“O,” Clarke takes Octavia’s hands and starts to undo her wraps, “Maybe then you shouldn’t be exercising.”

“It was going okay… really, I was feeling good.”

“Maybe call it a break for today?” Clarke raises an eyebrow at her girlfriend. It really isn’t a question so much as it is a polite request. “I like having you home.”

Tension drains out of her when Octavia nods assent. She leans forward and kisses her softly before returning to unwrapping Octavia’s hands and rewrapping the wraps. For a few moments all she thinks about is the circular pattern of it, keeping the tension taut to make it easy for Octavia to put them on next time. She lets it calm her. 

“Clarke?” Octavia asks softly. She doesn’t know where to start, it feels like so long since they talked about them, just them. They always avoided talking and Octavia is starting to realize what a miracle it is that they’re still together. “I’m okay, promise, but why don’t we get me cleaned up and we can cuddle until Lexa gets home?”

Clarke looks at her like she wasn’t expecting Octavia to agree without an argument.

“I think we need some us time, to talk.” Octavia shrugs. “I haven’t been good at that lately… ever.”

“We haven’t. We’ve just kind of been running forward and hoping we land on our feet.”

“I think we almost didn’t.”

“We’re here though.”

“Are we?” Octavia is still off kilter enough that tears prick at her eyes and she can feel fear grabbing at her insides.

Clarke nods and smiles and it’s like someone opened up the sky. Her smile is radiant and it strikes Octavia that she hasn’t seen Clarke smile like this in a long time. These past few months have been hard, too hard, and they’re all still trying to find even footing.

“Good,” she whispers. “I love you, you know.”

“Yeah I know, love you, too.” Clarke twines their fingers together and looks up hopefully. It seems like maybe they’re in a place where they can talk. Maybe this won’t be a bad thing. “I kissed Raven, so did Lexa.” 

“I haven’t.”

“I know.” Clarke chews on her lip. “That’s okay… if you’re okay that we have?”

The pounding in Octavia’s head has finally started to recede and she moves to stand, pulling Clarke with her. She wraps around her, seeking comfort and warmth while she searches within herself for the answer. “I am. I’m just not ready yet.”

“She’s a really good kisser.” Clarke rasps. “So you know, when you  _ are _ ready.”

“What if I think she’s terrible at it?” Octavia grins and turns her head to look at Clarke.

Clarke makes like she’s thinking, her thumb and index finger stroking her chin, “I’ll just have to take all your kisses then so you won’t be subjected to Raven’s kissing. It’s a burden, but someone has to.”

Octavia finds herself laughing and feeling lighthearted like she hasn’t in awhile. She shoves Clarke in the shoulder. It’s like old times. They’re holding on to each other and laughing, teasing and tumbling against that edge that threatens to have them backing up against a wall.

Except this time it’s different. They’ve grown and managed to do it together. They’re learning how to talk and express themselves and break and still come out okay because they have each other. When they kiss it’s like falling in love even further.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke feels the bed shift and grow colder as first Lexa gets up then Octavia. She didn’t sleep last night, couldn’t quiet her mind and every time she tried to go to bed, no matter how exhausted she was she couldn’t fall asleep, so she kept going back to her studio to paint, until finally around two or three she had passed out. She vaguely remembers Lexa carrying her to bed and mumbling something about how she was covered in paint.

Clarke cracks open an eye to examine her hands, they’re mostly clean, though stained some from the paint. She tosses the comforter over her head and prays to be pulled back into oblivion. On top of too little sleep she can feel a mental block descending over her. She knows she won’t be getting out of bed until she absolutely has to today.

It’s easier not to fight it.

Pulling her knees to her chest she wraps her hands behind her neck. Nothing should be wrong, but everything feels heavy on her. Life just keeps tumbling forward and sometimes it feels like she’s scrambling to keep up. Today she has classes to teach and a therapy appointment and it feels like just a little bit too much. 

She wants a day just to decompress and unpack her feelings. How therapy is feeling all at once like something she has to do, something she knows she wants to do, and something she loathes. How she’s worried about Octavia what with them tumbling further into the relationship with Raven every day, and how she’s dealing, quietly processing and putting on a brave face as always. And then there’s that too, dating Raven. Keeping more secrets. Every time her life feels more complete it also feels more complex.

Lexa’s voice cuts through her thoughts.

“Octavia, do you want to help me make the bed?”

Clarke frowns because she’s clearly still in the bed.

Octavia grins at Lexa over the top of the bed, they’ve each taken a side and are tugging at the sheet to straighten it out, or, well, pretend to. Lexa winks at Octavia.

“I think there’s something in the middle of the bed.”

Clarke feels the mattress shift and a moment later one of her girlfriends has sprawled on top of her giggling. Octavia. She feels Lexa press up against her back and she shivers as they pull down the comforter, blinking in the morning light.

“Someone’s birthday is coming up and they haven’t said anything about what they want to do or what they want.” Lexa kisses the spot behind Clarke’s ear.

Octavia pouts, “And we’re quickly running out of excuses and time to use our back porch before winter really sets in.”

Clarke breathes in, trying to just let herself feel loved instead of overwhelmed. She should want to do something for her birthday but so much has been happening lately she hasn’t really given herself time to think about it, and this morning… this morning all she wants to do is stay in bed for a small forever. She’s turning twenty-eight, it’s not an insignificant birthday, especially not for an artist.

“I don’t have many spoons today,” Clarke snuggles backwards into Lexa and tugs at Octavia through the blanket. She feels her girlfriends settle in around her, the playful wake-up turning into serious last minute cuddling.

“We can talk about it later,” Lexa offers.

“Or maybe just give people a heads up that we might do something on Thursday and then you can decide that day.” Octavia closes her eyes and settles down nose to nose with Clarke on the pillow.

Clarke shrugs and buries her face in the pillow. She’s too low on energy, and too emotionally drained to handle the care and kindness without feeling like feeling at all is too much. She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Lexa starts cooing in her ear.

“Hey, okay, look, Clarke, we’ll sort this out later okay, we won’t say anything to anyone, and if we get asked we’ll make up an excuse to not answer.” 

Clarke hears Lexa’s watch shift on her wrist as she checks it. 

“You’ve got three hours until you need to be out the front door for class, okay? Then you’ve got an appointment after. I’m going to set you an alarm for two hours from now, and one of us will call you in two and a half. Sound good?” Lexa presses a kiss to her hair.

“We can conference call it if you want even,” Octavia kisses her temple. “I’m sorry we both have to go to work babe, they want me in for a meeting, and another eval.”

Clarke nods. “It’s okay. I’m going to go back to sleep.” She’s out again before she hears the front door shut.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa’s back crashes into the bed and she bounces, crawling backwards to center herself on the oversized bed as Octavia follows. She’s barely been home for ten minutes but hello kisses had turned heated and the pair stumbled upstairs. Lexa was home early after a frustrating day in court and just wanted to calm her mind.

They’re stripped down to their undershirts, no bra, no pants in what is probably record time.

For a moment it’s just them, mouths locked together in a desperate kiss, hands, searching out skin, hearts pounding in rhythm. They’re alive with it, unable to feel enough of each other to slow down or keep still. Octavia’s thigh slips between Lexa’s legs, pressing hard against her center. Their hips rock together in a steady rhythm, kisses becoming sloppier the more labored their breathing becomes. They’re riding closer to that edge, suddenly intense and in their face.

Octavia pulls back, dropping her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, her head spinning for an entirely different reason than excitement. Black spots crowd the edge of her vision and her arms are shaking. At least this time the light headedness isn’t accompanied by nausea. She lets Lexa ease her down onto the bed and curls into her side, just trying to breathe.

“O, sweetheart, what happened?” Lexa hovers over her.

“Blood rushing out of my head too quickly,” Octavia rasps, and looks up to meet Lexa’s eyes, wide with concern, but also pupils still blown wide with desire. Disappointment and guilt swirls inside her. “I’m okay.”

“You’re certain…” Lexa tries to calm herself down, body still yearning for touch, muscles aching and clenching low in her belly. She strokes Octavia’s hair and tries to focus on her girlfriend instead of the foggy haze of need she’s consumed by.

“Don’t stop,” Octavia whispers. She takes Lexa’s hand and guides it between their bodies, slipping underneath the edge of Lexa’s underwear. “I want you to take care of yourself because I can’t right now.” She nudges Lexa onto her back and kisses the corner of her mouth before retreating just a few inches. If they’re touching she’ll want to take over and she doesn’t want to risk nearly passing out again. “Do what you’d do if I weren’t here and you were this wet.”

Octavia isn’t sure how she’s finding the strength to not go down on Lexa and make her feel good. She enjoys getting her girls off more than getting off herself most of the time. There’s something about knowing how good they feel when she does that satisfies her. She’s not sure she’s ever turned down an opportunity for sex, but if she can’t enjoy touching Lexa, she’ll settle for watching Lexa, if she’s comfortable with it.

The damp heat underneath Lexa’s fingers is undeniable, her eyes still unfocused, her head zeroed in on a singular desire. She’s stopped trying to fight the need rolling through her. Lexa knows she’s close enough to the edge right now that it won’t take her long to feel herself crest. She nods to Octavia and closes her eyes.

Her free hand slides up under her camisole, fingers splayed flat against her stomach.

She slips one finger between her folds, opening herself up, parting swollen lips and feeling the sweet slickness of her arousal. Wetting her finger she draws it up to circle her clit and focuses in there, consistent smooth motions rubbing across the nub as she feels it stiffen. Nothing she does is for show, even though Octavia is watching her. It’s all for show.

Even with her eyes closed she can feel Octavia watching her, hear her breath, feel her weight on the bed. The idea that Octavia is watching her every move sends an electric shock through her muscles straight to her core. In all their adventures in bed she realizes this is the first time either of her girls have watched her touch herself without also touching her. A small breathy moan parts her lips.

Octavia presses her thighs together, the only thing hotter than watching one of her girls come is getting to be the reason they are… watching is a very close second. The sounds alone are enough to make her sex ache and her head light.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly sexy you are?” Octavia’s tone is reverent.

Lexa isn’t certain what has her more aroused, the heated makeout session, her fingers on her clit, or the knowledge that her girlfriend is enjoying watching her masturbate.

She writhes under her own touch, her free hand scratching at her own skin, feeling for a breast, tweaking her nipple. Her muscles are tensing, seizing up and she knows she’s close. Deliberate circles around her clit become frantic rubbing as her back arches up off the bed.

Her orgasm slams her back onto the bed as she cries out quietly. Lightheaded and bright white light in front of her eyes she draws lazy circles around her clit, chasing the last few vestiges of pleasure. She lets her hand fall from her breast back to her stomach, and for a few moments she doesn’t think, just lets herself feel. It’s pure bliss.

Lexa doesn’t stop her hand because just as she’s about to she can feel threads of a second orgasm starting hard and fast. She turns her head, then her body, so she’s nearly face down in bed, one leg bent and raised to her side to give herself access. Her mouth is open and she’s panting, almost having forgotten Octavia until she feels a featherlight touch against her shin, hesitant and tentative, like she doesn’t want to interrupt but can’t keep her hands to herself. Lexa squeezes her eyes shut and focuses on the pleasure building between her legs again so quickly the ache is almost painful.

Unlike the first time her pace from the start is frantic, chasing the second orgasm before it slips away. It’s harder to stay still enough to do what she needs to do to ensure that she comes a second time. All her body wants to do is rub frantically against something, she’s almost wanting something to ride and wonders for a split second if she could ask Octavia for one of their dildos without breaking the build up. She doesn’t though, knowing that it’s rare that she derives pleasure from anything larger than a couple of fingers.

She keens, a high pitched whine at the back of her throat as she presses up against the edge of the orgasm, unable to tumble down into the blissful depths.

Octavia can’t help herself, when Lexa continued straight into a second round she nearly came herself. She didn’t expect that watching Lexa would affect her the way it does, but she’s running fingertips along Lexa’s bare leg before she can stop herself. Her hand slides over Lexa’s ass, fingers dipping beneath the band of her underwear and reaching toward her center. She watches Lexa’s face for consent. When she stops moving there’s a small whine and Lexa nods, teeth digging into her bottom lip. That’s all Octavia needs to plunge two fingers inside, hitting the spot she knows will make Lexa come undone. 

The orgasm is almost instantaneous. Lexa cries out and shudders, cursing softly as she yields into the bed. She cracks open one eye, her hand still between her legs but she’s too tired to move it. Octavia is blurry but Lexa can tell she’s grinning.

Octavia slowly pulls out her fingers and nudges Lexa until she can slide up against her.

“I- I need to go clean up,” Lexa breathes out holding her cum soaked hand away from Octavia.

“Rest first, then shower.” Octavia takes Lexa wrist in her hand and pulls it toward her mouth, tongue darting out to lick her fingers clean. She regrets not being able to finish Lexa off herself, relishing the tang of Lexa’s cum on her tongue. When she finds the hand sufficiently clean she wraps Lexa’s arm around her and lays her head down against Lexa’s chest. She shuts her eyes when Lexa squeezes her gently and presses a kiss to her hair. 

“How’s your head?” Lexa asks softly.

“Still a little light.” Octavia smiles, she feels alive in ways she didn’t know she could, not while simultaneously knowing she couldn’t stand up without falling over. “Watching wasn’t as distancing as I thought it would be. That was really fucking hot, Lex.”

Lexa kisses her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. “I’m really proud of you for trying to take care of yourself, O.” She pulls her closer. “When you’re feeling better I’ll make it up to you.”

Octavia nods and snuggles closer, happy just to have Lexa in her bed and arms.

##  _______________________________________

 

“Octavia.” Raven groans sleepily. She’d been up late grading papers when a succession of texts from her friend, almost girlfriend, had woken her up. Without really thinking she’d thrown on her workout clothes and made her way out to the Blake-Griffin-Woods’ house. Now she was standing halfway between their kitchen and the makeshift gym and wondering why she just hadn’t feigned sleep a little while longer. “What are we doing?”

“You’re helping figure out a workout plan that isn’t going to make me pass out or throw up. Something that builds into a regime where I can build strength.” Octavia reaches for Raven’s hand to tug her into the workout room like she normally would but the moment their hands touch it’s like she’s aware of how warm and soft Raven feels. She drops Raven’s hand as soon as they’re both moving and tries to cover up the awkward feeling with a smile. “Work said I’m not cleared yet for full duty and I’m sick of waiting because I’m not passing their tests.”

“Why are we doing this right now?” Raven rubs her hand where Octavia touched it. She can still feel the heat like a brand.

“Because you have class to teach at ten, and I have to be at the precinct at noon to go back to work… well, desk work.”

Raven shakes her head because that isn’t quite what she meant even though she would have rather waited for the end of the day, at least today. “O,” she starts. “Not seven a.m. now, this week, now. I’ve tried to help you set up a training schedule before and you’ve brushed off the idea.”

Octavia makes a slow lap around the workout room, hand trailing over the equipment like the cold metal and plastic might offer some kind of solace. It’s not getting any easier admitting that she’s scared and it’s made her realize she needs to make changes, or that changing at all scares her. She’s so tired of being scared though.

“I could have died, Raven.” Octavia twists a knob between her fingers, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t want to put you all through that again. That guy threw me off him like I was nothing. I’m small but I can’t let someone get me like that. I don’t think I could go back out knowing I’m not strong enough.”

Raven watches Octavia, shoulders square but head dipped down, like she’s all at once proud and ashamed. She wants to cross the room to her, hold her close. They could do that before, but that touch in the hallway told her that things have changed between them. She still doesn’t know where they stand, not as almost-girlfriends. There in the no man’s land of not quite dating. All she wants to do is comfort her.

“We can do that.” Raven nods decisively and crosses to the whiteboard where they keep a tally of competition scores. She erases it to make room for the plan. First up, getting back to square one. The slow build up. “I think once we’re through this first phase you should find a class to attend, kickboxing maybe, or MMA once your head is cleared by a doctor. Mostly you need to focus on your technique and application to larger targets. Judo might not be a bad option. Or talk to Anya about Krav Maga classes… maybe. Lexa might kill me for suggesting that.”

Octavia laughs and smiles. She likes this side of Raven, the part that’s working to figure things out, serious but open. Crossing the room she leans against the wall within arms’ length of Raven. Reaching out she pushes her with her fingertips, “Alright, where do we start.”

It’s like flipping a switch. They’re back to themselves and the way things were. Raven grins and feels a warmth building in her chest. Octavia trusts her, however much she may be unsure about feelings, Octavia trusts her. Maybe not back to the way things were exactly, before there wasn’t the underlying tension, nerves and uncertainty. Raven takes a step closer to the board and Octavia as she starts to write again and explain her plan.

She just lets the warmth of proximity and potential wash over her, content to wait for her friend to be ready.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke looks down to Raven standing beneath her at the base of the freestanding ladder they’ve got set up underneath the apple trees. She’s reaching for one that looks absolutely perfect. This is the first time they’ve been alone since Octavia’s accident at work. There’s been a lot of group time, but it’s different getting to be alone. 

The quiet is good, and this morning Clarke woke up feeling like she could tackle the day, instead of getting tackled by it.

“Do you remember our conversation at lunch right before I got the call about Octavia?” Clarke breathes out through her nose to steady the rush of emotions that hits her when she mentions the call. Her therapist was teaching her different breathing techniques to keep herself calm.

“You mean the one where you regaled me with terrible pick up lines?”

“After that… after we kissed.” They hadn’t talked about that yet either.

Raven looks down, digging the toe of her shoe into the dirt, ignoring the ache in her leg. She remembers her heart spilling out of her mouth in a confession she’d been holding close for far too long.

“Apple.” Clarke waits for Raven to look back up and she drops it down, then shifts on the ladder to reach another. “You said something about how you’d been waiting for this… for us… did you really want all of us?”

Raven doesn’t answer right away, yes and no and maybe is the truth. She waits for Clarke to turn back to apple picking. “I can’t deny that I was attracted to you all the day we met. I’d only gotten away from Wick two months before, and there was something about how the three of you took me in… Anya too. I think right then I was ready to love anyone that looked in my direction, but I knew I couldn’t let myself.” She shrugs even though Clarke isn’t watching and wraps her arms around herself feeling suddenly chilly in the fall air. “Those feelings never went away, I just ignored them so hard I would forget about them. It was easier.”

Clarke is practically on her tip toes reaching for an apple that she can’t quite touch. “I’m glad you didn’t push away from us.”

“Me too.”

Raven watches as Clarke gives a little hop, no more than a press up to her highest tiptoes and just grazes the apple with her fingertips. It falls and she catches it. “Clarke, I swear, if you fall off that ladder Octavia will kill me, and then I’m going to come back and haunt you.” Raven’s arms are akimbo, her hands resting on her hips, the bucket of apples at her feet.

“You’d make a cute ghost.” Clarke winks, she steadies herself with her left hand and drops the apple to Raven before moving up one more rung on the ladder.

Raven bites her lip nervously, glad Clarke can’t see her face right then. It’s a whiplash change in tone but maybe 10 feet in the air isn’t exactly the best place to be having deep conversations. “Yeah but if I was a ghost you couldn’t kiss me.” 

Clarke slams her hands down on the top of the ladder. Raven nearly jumps out of her skin thinking Clarke is about to fall.

“Don’t scare me with such terrible ideas!” Clarke sounds mock-horrified, but grins as she drops the last apple to Raven. She hurries down the ladder only slowing when her hands wrap around Raven’s biceps, coming to a stop as her lips press against Raven’s. When she pulls back she has a wicked gleam in her eye. “Just had to make sure you weren’t a ghost since you’re so boo-yu-ti-ful.”

Raven rolls her eyes and tries to fix Clarke with a stern look but there’s a smile tugging at her mouth and the effect is lost.

“I know, I know, my pick up lines make me irresistible.”  Clarke tilts her head to the side and smiles so big that her eyes nearly close. 

Raven shakes her head and lets out a small chuckle. Shoving Clarke’s shoulder she turns and starts walking back toward the farmhouse. “You can carry the bucket, Griffin!” she calls over her shoulder.

Hefting the nearly full bucket up Clarke grunts and hurries after Raven as best she can. “Why did you let me pick so many apples?”

“Because I want to bake, and you want to eat what I bake.”

“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere.”

“You’re a dirty joke.”

“Apple pie… vaginas… it’s just on the tip of my tongue. They both taste so good...”

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven winces as she lowers herself down onto her couch. She’s been on her feet all day, teaching class then going out to the orchard with Clarke and then baking, and her residual limb is aching and feeling raw in ways it hasn’t in years. Carefully she undoes the the suction on her socket and slides off her prosthetic. First she removes the socks, multiple layers of cloth she’s had to add over the past several months to keep the socket in place, and then peels down the sleeve. Patches of her skin are red and raw, friction blisters dot her skin.

She’s spent a lot of time recently ignoring how much pain she’s in, and it’s like the more that she comes back to herself the less she’s able to keep up that wall. Her heart opens up and the iron will she possessed fades away. Maybe it’s better that way, maybe she’ll get better this way. Still, she misses being able to push through no matter what. 

She examines the skin on her nub, twisting this way and that to see it as best she can. The blisters mean she won’t be able to wear her prosthetic for a few days, if not a couple of weeks. She groans inwardly. She has a wheelchair stashed in a closet that she rarely uses and starts the internal debate about whether or not she could get away with crutches if she could get one of the girls or Anya to drive her around.

There is a series of problems she has the power within her to fix, and the means to support herself in it. First, her leg, she either needs to gain back weight, or get a new socket fitted, and as luck would happen she has a routine appointment tomorrow with her prosthetist. He isn’t going to be happy, but she can deal with that. Second, it’s been weeks since she and Clarke had their heart to heart, and she’s yet to call up her therapist. 

A few minutes later she has an email drafted and hits send. It’s a start. She’s still recovering from Wick and probably will be for a while. Reconnecting with her therapist will only help.

Last in her list is the conflicting feelings she has regarding her budding relationship with the trio. In some ways it’s wonderful and amazing… and then in others she can get herself to believe that it’s real, that this isn’t something based in infatuation that will fade and she’ll be left broken hearted again. She doesn’t see why they would want her when she’s so incredibly broken.

Maybe it’s just her that sees herself that way. She can’t let herself push them away just because she’s hung up on her own insecurities. Without her leg she’ll need a ride tomorrow.

Raven flips her phone over several times contemplating if she’s ready for this, if she could make it through an appointment without feeling mortified or worthless. She knows Lexa would never judge her because of her leg, but that does nothing to change the anxiety wrapping around the base of her skull.

_ Raven 11:15pm : _ I know it’s late, sorry if I woke you… how busy is work tomorrow?

_ Lexa 11:17pm : _ Not very. Is everything okay?

_ Raven 11:17pm :  _ I have an appointment with my prosthetist at 3, would you be able to go with me?

_ Raven 11:18pm :  _ if you want that is... I don’t expect you to go or feel obligated, I know we aren’t serious yet

_ Lexa 11:18pm : _ I don’t think I could be not serious about you.

_ Raven 11:18pm : _ so that’s a yes?

Raven watches her screen go black and turn off and then clicks the screen on to see if there’s a notification of a new message. There’s an edge of panic starting to line her stomach, like maybe it was too much to ask too soon. 

_ Lexa 11:24pm : _ yes! It means a lot that you asked. Sorry for the delayed reply O & C were demanding cuddles. I can’t wait for you to be part of our nighttime routine.

_ Lexa 11:24pm : _ Is that okay, for me to say something like that?

_ Raven 11:25pm : _ yeah, it’s really okay :)

_ Raven 11:25pm : _ sleep well, and tell the girls goodnight from me.

She curls onto her side, phone clutched to her heart. Her heart feels full like it might burst and she’s smiling and can’t stop and she isn’t sure the last time someone really made her feel this wanted.

Her phone vibrates multiple times and she pulls it away from her heart to check the notifications. 

_ Octavia 11:30pm : _ goodnights should be in the group chat so we can all say it

_ Clarke 11:30pm : _ agreed

_ Lexa 11:30pm:  _ I’ve already apologized to them for keeping you to myself Raven.

_ Clarke 11:30pm:  _ not that we blame her. just want to get to say it too

_ Octavia 11:31pm: _ so, night Raven :)

_ Lexa 11:31pm:  _ goodnight <3

_ Clarke 11:31pm:  _ yeah what they said ;)

_ Raven 11:32pm:  _ night you three <3

She rolls onto her back and covers her face with her hands and tries not to think about the tears that roll down her cheeks. The hope at a future that wells up inside her is almost too much.

##  _______________________________________

 

Bellamy is sitting in the deck chair next to Octavia. He had stopped by with a six pack and an apology for how he had left things the last time they had talked before the accident, and how he hadn’t been around much lately. Octavia had been able to shoot off a quick text to the girls to let them know he was over but him being around their house without invitation feels like an invasion.

She hates it.

Truth is, she misses her brother and the way they used to be. When they were younger they were close, he took care of her, raised her mostly, it was them against the world, but the older she got and the more freedom she needed the further they drifted apart. The further they drifted the more he became like their mother’s boyfriends, angry and moody and unpredictable.

Things shifted, shattered a little bit more when he hit Clarke, but they forgave him and on the surface things seemed to get better. Then he threatened Lexa.

Mostly she’s sitting there, drinking his beer, waiting for him to say his peace.

“You trust me, right, O?”

“You’re my brother.”

Bellamy is quiet for a moment and Octavia isn’t certain if it’s because he believes her or because he’s skeptical of her non-answer. He takes a long sip of his beer and looks out across the backyard.

“I should try to afford you that same respect. You’re my sister, and a grown woman. If you say everything is fine between you and Clarke, and Lexa isn’t interfering then I should believe you.”

Octavia winces because while saying he’s her brother would once have meant that she trusts him, it doesn’t anymore. It doesn’t because he never trusted her and she sees that now. Still, there’s a part of her that wants him in her life. She wants the old Bellamy back, the one she sees peek through sometimes. He would protect her, make her laugh, they understood each other.

She wishes she knew how to ask what had changed him and why he spent so much time angry and distrusting the world. Instead she just thanks him. Maybe one day, maybe this is a first step towards that. Maybe they’re both trying to grow into better people.

“I’m seeing someone,” Bellamy says it like it’s no big deal. “I think it might be serious.” He taps the base of his beer bottle against the arm of the deck chair and looks over to Octavia. “I think you’d like her.”

“Well you know, there’s only one way to find that out. You have to bring her over.” She doesn’t know where the offer comes from, maybe she really is feeling that they can repair their relationship. Covering up her uncertainty with a sip of beer and a smile she hopes he doesn’t notice.

“What about Christmas?” Bellamy sits up and turns so he’s sitting on the foot rest of the deck chair and faces Octavia full on. He sets his beer down and clasps his hands lightly together, elbows resting on his knees. “She wants me to go down to L.A. with her for Thanksgiving. Her family is down there.”

“Bell, that isn’t ‘might be serious’ that  _ is _ serious.” She sits up and mirrors his position so they’re face to face. He’s getting older, the first hints of grey just starting to pepper his temples. She wonders when they grew up, got older, because it still feels like they’re teenagers sometimes. There’s more responsibility now but she doesn’t feel as old as she is. It doesn’t feel like they should be having adult heart to hearts and deciding to be bigger, better people. She wonders if she’ll lose her sense of adventure and decides she can’t risk it. Some things she’ll never grow out of.

“Are you going to at least tell me her name?”

“Gina.” He smiles when he says it, like she’s the world wrapped up in sunlight and flowers.

“Does she teach at the university? Does Raven know her?” Octavia nudges Bellamy’s knee letting herself fall back into the old way of feeling between them.

“No,” he’s smiling as he shakes his head. “We ran into each other at the park… literally.”

“Damn, I could have asked Raven for details.”

“She’s been hanging out a lot here lately. I haven’t seen her outside work in weeks.” Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “Are she and Lexa seeing each other?”

Octavia reaches for her beer and covers up her reaction with a long pull. Technically yes. “She just thinks we’re cooler than you, don’t worry, Raven’s smart like that.”

Bellamy frowns clearly wondering how he walked into that one. Octavia bursts out laughing and lays back on the deck chair looking up at the sky. For a moment it feels like they’re back to them. Just for a moment. She’s just waiting for it to end.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven tries to remember the last time she brought someone with her to one of her appointments with her prosthetist and comes to the conclusion that it must have been either Finn or Luna. She tries not to think about how many years it’s been. Four. It’s been almost four years.

Lexa had offered to wait in the waiting room but Raven needed to know for certain that this was something at least one of the trio could handle. She knew on one level that they were okay with it, but that didn’t stop the gnawing doubt in the back of her mind. What if they decided the fact that she had half a leg was too much to deal with? Raven doesn’t realize she’s tensed and not breathing until she feels Lexa’s hand alight on the small of her back.

She hasn’t needed to say a word, but Lexa was there warm and steady next to her in the cold impersonal office while she sat on a padded plastic table covered in impossibly easy to rip paper. Every time she shifted it crinkled and tore and she wished she could have sat in a normal chair instead. Lexa leans into her slightly, her head resting against Raven’s arm.

“Sometimes if I know the scope of what is about to happen it helps me focus and keep calm.” Lexa rubs thumb in small circles. “Want to talk me through what normally happens?”

Raven can barely find her voice for the emotions tumbling through her. She doesn’t need to tell Lexa anything and she always seems to understand. It calms her racing thoughts just enough that Raven can push them aside. Her breathing becomes easier again. Lexa takes her hand.

That nearly makes her cry.

She’s not used to casual touch and even something this simple, having it be given without her asking, it’s a flood of relief in a desert of loneliness.

She doesn’t have to do this alone anymore.

Raven can barely keep the emotion out of her voice when she starts to speak but she manages to breathe through the tears and steady herself. “We’ll talk about my health overall, what problems I’ve been having, they’ve already taken my weight - which will be an issue - and he’ll take measurements of my nub. Usually he’d have me do some exercises to show how I’m moving with the prosthetic on, but because of the blisters I’ll probably need to come back in a couple of weeks.”

Lexa resists the urge to wrap her arms around Raven and settles for continuing to draw patterns on the small of her back. All she wants is for Raven to know she’s there for support, whatever that means, but that Raven asked her to come along, and not just because she needed a ride, but to come into the appointment has her emotional. Her heart is soaring with the level of trust she knows this must take.

“So your prosthetist will be concerned with the blisters and the weight loss predominantly?”

“Yeah.” Ravens says sadly. She knows what’s coming next and doesn’t want it to be real.

“You’re helping Octavia get back on track, the plan you’ve written up for her is really solid. You should write one for yourself.” Lexa presses a kiss to Raven’s temple and leans her head against Raven’s. “I know the past several months were impossible. But you’ve got people, you’ve got us.”

Lexa nudges her nose against Raven’s cheek. Everyone would always have been there for Raven if she asked, but this is different. She means a kind of forever and more. Even if no one else is ready to be there yet, she is. Her hand comes up to cup Raven’s cheek and that’s all it takes, a small tilt of her head and they’re kissing.

It’s soft and gentle, lips parting, meeting, and parting again. It wraps around them, deeper than words can express and pulls them together. Raven wraps her hand around Lexa’s holding it to her cheek. It’s a promise soft and full, exposing their hearts.

A sharp knock on the office door jolts them back into the reality of their location and the current act that Lexa is supposed to be no more than a friend. Lexa nearly trips backwards into the extra chair and bites her lip to keep from smiling at Raven. 

Raven wipes at her bottom lip. They need to be more careful. This is only the beginning and there’s still so far to go before they can let the world in on their beautiful secret.

The door opens after a short pause and Raven’s specialist steps in.

“Raven! My favorite scientist, and who is this?”

“Gustus, this is Lexa-” Raven stumbles over the introduction the taste of Lexa’s kiss still on her lips. “... my friend.”

Gustus takes a couple steps over to Lexa and takes her hand. He’s easily nearly twice her size but his handshake is gentler than she imagined. “Good to meet you. It’s been so long since she brought someone along I was starting to think she’d scared all her friends away.”

Lexa grins, “She’s just stubborn, you know how she can get.”

“My ears work perfectly fine you know.” Raven sticks out her tongue at Lexa.

Gustus laughs and it’s a big guffaw that makes him seem more like an overly large teddy bear than anything else. “So, any problems to report?”

The mirth falls from Raven’s eyes as she looks down, fingertip skirting over the edge of her leggings where they’re folded over the end of her leg. She knows how disappointed he’ll be, it’s been a long time since she’s had blisters. Slowly she tugs up on her leggings, exposing the red blistered flesh. Raven feels Gustus frown, doesn’t need to look up to know the look on his face.

He kneels down in front of her and examines the skin in silence for a few minutes. “How long have you been having problems with blisters?”

“Maybe a month or two, but this is the worst.” Raven sees Lexa tilt her head in question out of the corner of her eye. There’s so much she hasn’t talked about with anyone. But a blister now and again wasn’t the end of the world.

“You know what this means?”

Raven deflates.

“No prosthetic until those clear up. I can’t have you risking the integrity of the skin. Also, I need you to make sure you’re putting lotion on it nightly, as well as massaging those muscles. I know how active you are.” He crosses to the computer and types out a few things quickly. “Lexa?”

“Yes?” Lexa says tentatively.

“I expect you’re around this one a lot?”

She clears her throat, “Yes.”

“Make sure she actually does what I tell her to do.”

“Of course, Doctor.”

“Gustus is fine. I’m guessing we’ll be seeing each other again.” He turns back around and fixes Raven with a stare before she looks up at him, clearly sullen. “Don’t look at me like that, you know the drill. And I know you hate it, but you  _ can _ use your wheelchair, in fact you probably should be.”

“I know,” she breathes out her gaze dropping back to her hands where she’s fussing with her nails.

“I want to see you back in here when the blisters clear up, we’ll need to evaluate whether or not you’re needing a new socket since you’ve dropped in weight.”

Raven nods, it’s one thing to know it’s what she needs to do, to give up walking for at least a week, if not two, but it’s another entirely to be told she has to. She knows using her prosthetic will only give her pain right now and sores that refuse to heal. She clenches her jaw and sits up straighter trying to find some semblance of pride to keep herself from crying.

Gustus’ voice is quiet when he continues, as if he’s known Raven long enough to know her moods and how she’ll react. “You’ve lost enough that I’m worried, Raven.” He glances to Lexa, then back to Raven, “Do you know what’s caused it?”

Raven shrugs even though she knows exactly why. It’s just hard to say, she’s not to a place yet where she can talk about the past few months without wanting to break down, not when she knows she can’t downplay the severity of what Wick did.

“Raven?” Lexa prods, her tone encouraging, but all it does is make Raven want to sink further into herself. She hates feeling weak.

Swallowing down her feelings she detaches herself from the words. “Wick came back.”

Gustus nods but doesn’t question, his only reaction to glance to Lexa.

“And he’s gone?”

“In jail, with a restraining order.”

Gustus looks down at Raven, there’s a mix of sadness in his eyes, but he doesn’t pry any further. Lexa wonders how much he knew of what happened the first time around.

Raven rolls down her leggings and pins the ends together, before she reaches for her crutches and slides off the exam table. “Lexa, I’m ready to go.” All she wants is to get home and forget about the reality of the next few weeks for a little while. She’s already out the door by the time Lexa stands up.

Throwing an apologetic look to Gustus she mutters a goodbye and rushes after Raven wondering just what kind of storm will be waiting for her when she catches up.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia finally got the nerve to ask Raven out on a proper one on one date nearly a week after they started saying goodnight in the group chat. Some kind of feeling has been building between them. Raven had been quietly flirting with her during their training sessions, backing off whenever she realized that Octavia was wondering how she felt. It made it hard not to want to fall for her. Sometimes Octavia finds herself flirting back.

It was confusing.

She’s waiting outside, even though it’s cold, because she doesn’t want to miss Raven showing up and there are already a decent number of people inside. At least it isn’t raining and she can enjoy the night air as she leans against the wall of the barcade.

She spots Raven as she steps out of a taxi, smoothing down her hair and making sure she has all of her things. Raven is wearing an impossibly short black lace bodycon dress with heels. It’s the first time she’s seen Raven wear her prosthetic in a while, let alone the modification that allows her to wear any sort of heel. Octavia can’t help but stare because Raven looks stunning. Her hair is pulled back in a tight high ponytail and her makeup is flawless. Even more so, she’s smiling again. Her smile could melt ice in Siberia.

Muscles clench low in her stomach as Raven walks towards her and she knows things are changing because of it. She’s always found Raven attractive but it’s never affected her before. Not like this.

Raven reaches out with her index finger and lifts Octavia’s chin so that she closes her mouth. She swallows and drags her eyes up Raven’s body and breathes out, “Hey.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” Raven winks and reaches for Octavia’s hand. She lets her bravado carry them inside. Her heart is pounding as she steals glances at Octavia, dressed in skin tight dark wash jeans tucked into black knee high boots, and a black lace shirt with nothing but a simple black bra underneath. Raven swallows thickly. Bar first then games.

They’ve been here before just to hang out, but never on a date. Everything feels different. The air between them is thick and electric. Each touch feels new and different like they’ve never been this close before, and in some ways they haven’t.

Raven waits until they’re a round in until she suggests they move over to the arcade games. The alcohol makes it easier, she can feel Octavia leaning into her more the longer their out. It’s not much, but it feels like everything. With Clarke and Lexa everything had moved so quickly, both girls as eager as she was to touch, to kiss. Octavia is a lightning rod of nerves that Raven is trying to ground.

They’ve settled in at the pinball machine and Raven has watched Octavia lose three times.

“Want me to show you how it’s done?” Raven smirks.

“Oh no, I’m going to make this game my bitch.” Octavia glances up to see the look in Raven’s eyes and completely misses the ball as it drops down between the paddles. The nervous feeling is back again, the one she doesn’t know how to deal with, because what if after all this it doesn’t work out and they can’t go back to being friends.

There’s a gleam in Raven’s eyes that tells her things will work out. The voice in her head is louder.

She turns her attention back to the pinball machine and plonks in another quarter before reaching for her pint glass full of water.

When the music starts up she realizes Raven has moved. Her heels are just enough taller than Octavia’s that Raven is taller tonight, when on flat they’re the same height. Not that she’s ever noticed from this angle before. Raven has slid behind Octavia, just barely brushing against her back, her arms wrap around and she rests her hands over the top of Octavia’s.

“Ready?” Raven whispers against her ear. The puff of breath sends a shiver down Octavia’s spine that she knows Raven feels.

She nods. “Always.”

Their competition has always been full of innuendo but that’s all it’s been before. 

Raven wraps her hand around Octavia’s as they pull back the plunger and let it go. She guides their movements and they save the marble more times than they miss it as they work together. Octavia relaxes into her the longer they play. By the time they burn through their quarters Raven is wrapped completely around Octavia her chin on her shoulder, cheek to cheek. On their last round she lets Octavia fly solo as her hands settle onto Octavia’s hips.

Octavia can barely concentrate with Raven’s hands on her. She realizes it isn’t bad either. She’s trembling and wanting in ways she didn’t think she’d be able to feel. It’s intense and distracting, almost as distracting as having Raven watching her. The marble shoots straight down the middle of her paddles and there’s no way to save it. Raven squeezes her hips and wraps her arms around Octavia completely.

All she’s aware of is her breathing and Raven’s breathing. She can feel it in the air on her cheek, and the rise and fall of her chest against her back. They’re both breathing hard with the proximity to each other, dancing along that edge of almost. Will they or won’t they. 

Raven pulls away almost all at once as if she’s realized what she let happen.

Octavia swallows down the disappointment at the lost of contact.

“Maybe we should call it a night?”

Octavia turns, “I could give you a ride home if you think you’d be okay on the back of my motorcycle.”

“You’re alright to drive?” Raven bites the inside of her lip, nervous about the idea of riding home on Octavia’s motorcycle, the least of it because she hasn’t been on a motorcycle since before she lost her leg.

“Two pints of water after one beer 3 hours ago. I’m okay, but I understand if you don’t want to. I mean…” Octavia glances down, she doesn’t mean to, and she hates that she does. Because she doesn’t know if Raven’s leg would be a factor, she also doesn’t know if Raven would want to be pressed up against her so soon. She tries not to think about why Raven pulled away, or why Raven hasn’t tried to kiss her yet.

She tries not to think about if she wants Raven to kiss her because that seems to be the eternal question on her mind these days. She’s nearly sick with it.

“Let’s go.” Raven offers up her hand and Octavia takes it.

Raven settles against her back on the Harley, hands on her hips like they had been at the pinball machine. She’s wearing Octavia’s spare jacket and helmet, and Octavia isn’t sure she ever wants to see them on anyone else ever again. The motorcycle thrums to life underneath them and they speed off into the night, zipping through nearly empty streets.

Riding back to Raven’s apartment kissing is all she can think about, so much that their goodbye is awkward and rushed and she can tell that Raven is wondering if she pushed too far. She can’t leave things like this, can’t let them part without trying. Octavia feels like she has to at least try.

Octavia swings her leg over her motorcycle and rushes a couple steps, “Wait.” 

Raven turns and they’re face to face. Octavia’s hands coming up to cup her cheeks gently and she’s searching for hesitation or anything to indicate that this might not be wanted. “Can I?”

It’s so blatantly clear what Octavia is asking. Their hearts are beating hard, twin drum beats trying to drown out the night.

Raven rests her hands on Octavia’s hips and pulls her closer until they’re pressed together, but she waits, heart fluttering and hands shaking.

Octavia searches Raven’s face for any indication she doesn’t want this and seeing none kisses her hard and fast. It’s like jumping feet first off a cliff into ice cold water, adrenaline shoots through her veins and she hits with more energy than she needs.

Raven expects the kiss to be soft; it isn’t. Instead it’s need and want and exploration all at once. It’s bruising in its intensity, lips pressed to lips and nothing more, like Octavia knew she had to dive in or she would never let herself let this happen; it goes straight to her core. Raven kisses back, her hands firm on Octavia’s hips. She can feel every moment she’d thought about kissing her friend rush through her, every competition, the night they spent on the couch.

Every time she thinks her heart is full to bursting Raven finds it expanding instead.

The kiss ends as quickly as it started.

Octavia pulls back, her hands still on Raven’s face. She didn’t expect to be hit with a wave of emotion when their lips met, not the fluttering in her heart or the sense of relief that washed over her. She didn’t expect anything. She had kissed people before, people she wasn’t in love with, and it had made her feel unclean. Kissing Raven was electric and… addicting, if the want spiraling around inside her was any indication.

She can’t catch her breath, but she knows now. She knows that she wants Raven like she wants Clarke and Lexa.

“Hey there turbo, we’ve got time.” Raven half teases but her voice is soft and full of concern. “Why don’t we go inside and talk?” she’s searching Octavia’s reaction for anything negative. All she finds is awe and wonder, and beneath that, primal need.

Octavia’s hands slip from Raven’s face to wrap around the lapels of the jacket Raven had borrowed from her; she presses her forehead to Raven’s, breath shaky and lips parted. She can’t quite think beyond the sudden desire shooting into her veins. “I- I need…” she whispers, her lips nearly brushing against Raven’s.

“I know.” Raven kisses Octavia, softer but with the same intensity. She parts her lips, teasing the kiss deeper, to see how Octavia responds. Her heart skips when Octavia starts to kiss her back in earnest. Teeth and tongue like this kiss is something she’s been waiting too long for. Raven can’t hold back the small moan at the back of her throat when Octavia tugs her closer by the lapels and opens her mouth, her tongue swirling around Raven’s.

Raven has one hand on the small of Octavia’s back, the other between her shoulderblades and they’re moving together, bodies reacting in ways they know, but not with each other. It’s so much all at once but Raven doesn’t want them to stop, every part of her wants to get Octavia upstairs. This is the kind of kiss that usually only has one endpoint.

Octavia yields into the kiss, so taken by surprise that she likes kissing Raven that she doesn’t want to stop. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for more yet but this is everything she imagined it could be, and everything she was afraid it wouldn’t be. There’s still so far to go, but with Raven’s mouth on hers she feels some of the anxiety she’s been holding onto slip away. Kissing Raven is nothing like kissing Lexa or Clarke, but it is its own kind of wonderful.

She nips at Raven’s bottom lip, tugging it gently between her teeth as her fingers wrap around the baby hairs at the nape of Raven’s neck. She wants to stay in this moment because for this moment everything else has melted away.

Raven’s fingers dip underneath the edge of her shirt and Raven’s hand is halfway up her back before Octavia’s brain registers. Octavia grabs Raven’s wrist and pulls back from the kiss all at once. Guilt clogs her throat. She shouldn’t have let it get this far. Raven is standing there, still pressed close, eyes black with desire and lips swollen from kissing.

“I’m not- I need to-” Octavia stammers, she trembles and can feel tears prick her eyes.

Raven glances down at Octavia’s hand still delicately wrapped around her wrist, then back up to her already glossy eyes. She removes her hands from Octavia taking a small step back. “Stop?”

Octavia nods, letting Raven’s wrist drop, and Raven can feel the tension rush out of her, though her jaw is trembling. Raven swallows down her own desires, knowing anything she imagined won’t be happening tonight. They’re going to need to take things slow.

“Why don’t we go upstairs, out of the cold.” She holds out her hand. “Just to talk, or not talk, we can just sit until you’re ready to ride home.” Raven wiggles her fingers.

She takes Raven’s hand. Cool fingers twine with hers and she wonders how Raven can be so calm and in control when she’s nearly a shaking mess. Her heart is still pounding from the kiss and from it suddenly becoming too much all at once. She’s beyond grateful that Raven is being so careful and patient with her.

“You know, it’s been a long time since a girl panicked because I kissed her.” Raven teases and bumps her arm into Octavia’s as they walk into the apartment building.

Octavia returns the gesture. “Shut up,” she mumbles, but there’s a hint of a smile in her words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	27. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 6 | 9 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> portuguese translations at the end

Lexa was deep into a case briefing nearly a ream of paper long when her phone started buzzing.

_ Anya 2:34pm : _ Why hasn’t there been any word yet on Clarke’s birthday. Don’t tell me you didn’t plan anything?

Lexa chews on her lip and re-reads the text. She and Octavia had waited to bring up birthday plans again, because that’s what they had agreed to the morning they tried to ask about plans. They’d thought about making it a surprise but Octavia had been too worried about Clarke having another bad day.

_ Lexa 2:37pm : _ Nothing planned. Last I talked to Clarke about it she wasn’t in the mood to plan.

_ Anya 2:37pm :  _ Girl is turning 28. What about plans with just the four of you?

_ Lexa 2:38pm :  _ Maybe a quiet night, whatever Clarke wants to do. She’s had more rough days than not this week.

_ Anya 2:44pm : _ Can you get home early and see what kind of mood she’s in? because if she’s okay we’re amassing everyone at your place. And birthday celebrations are happening. 

_ Anya 2:45pm :  _ I shouldn’t be hearing second hand that we’re skipping someone’s birthday. Not you and me.

Lexa sets her phone to the side and lets her head fall to her desk. There were too many years their birthdays had been forgotten by the grown ups around them, either they were just about to be moved or had just moved… or someone plain forgot. They never did though. Lexa figured out how to bake a box cake from scratch by herself without making a mess when she was five, Anya had a more five fingered nimble approach, but neither ever forgot each other’s birthday. They always did  _ something _ .

Anya had decided very early on that they were important to each other and their existence needed to be celebrated.

_ Anya 2:52pm : _ Lex?

_ Anya 2:52pm : _ Just let her know we’re not talking anything high energy- and I’ll make sure things get cleaned up… I just think everyone could use some time to chill together. And if you all would just tell Niylah already then we could actually relax. I mean, I’m pretty sure she knows even though Lincoln and I have kept quiet.

_ Lexa 2:55pm : _ You know I can’t yet.

_ Anya 2:55pm : _ There’s a difference between your friends and the world my careful girl.

Lexa turns her phone over and sighs heavily. She knows Anya is right, and she knows her girlfriends would agree. It doesn’t change the gnawing fear in her gut that once the secret is out the wrong people will find out.  

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke rubs at a streak of green paint on her forearm that escaped being washed off during her shower. She hadn’t been planning on anything more than a quiet evening tonight, but when Lexa came home early and lured her out of her studio she realized quickly that neither her girlfriends nor her friends were going to let her get out of celebrating her birthday that easily.

It’s not that she doesn’t like birthdays. She does. Just with everything that’s happened these past few months it didn’t seem worth it. She didn’t feel like it was fair to ask her friends to spend more energy on her than they already have. Clarke rolls her eyes at herself; her therapist would probably enjoy diving into the reasoning behind this whole inner monologue more than she’d ever admit. She knows she feels guilty, and that’s enough for her. She also knows she shouldn’t.

Clarke’s head snaps up as Raven plops down on the couch next to her and leans over to whisper in her ear. “I would have just straddled you but, mixed company. You’re the birthday girl you shouldn’t be sitting over here by yourself.”

A blush creeps across Clarke’s cheeks. “I do feel bad that the only one that doesn’t know is Niylah, and it would be nice to just be able to be.” She reaches out and squeezes Raven’s thigh.

“What if you told Octavia and Lexa that’s what you wanted for your birthday, just so we could be out to the people we see  _ all the time _ ?” Raven nudges Clarke’s cheek with her nose then pulls back to a more friend safe distance.

Clarke presses her leg against Raven’s, being out enough to just be together in front of their friends at home, just being able to take the simple comfort of touching each other. “I can’t just ask, especially with everyone here.”

“Clarke,” Raven drops her voice, “I'm just saying, it'd be easier to find my place with you all if I wasn't constantly worried about who’s watching.” She pushes up off the couch and moves back toward the kitchen and the rest of their friends. 

Raven stops to chat with Lexa and Niylah, then again with Lincoln and Octavia, though Lincoln is in the middle of prepping dinner and excuses himself after a moment. She leans against the counter next to Octavia, energy thrumming through her at the idea. It doesn’t help that she just wants to reach out and hold Octavia’s hand and kiss her, and Lexa too, and Clarke.

“I think I know what we should do for Clarke for her birthday.” 

“We have food, booze, cake, and friends, what else is there?”

“Us,” Raven chews on her lip. “Especially you and Lexa. It’s her birthday and neither of her long term girlfriends can shower her with affection at her own party, which is hardly fair.”

“We’ll get to that later.”

“Niylah is the only one that doesn’t know… which I don’t really get because she and Clarke are pretty close.”

“You should talk to Lexa about why we aren’t out.” Octavia shrugs and drops her gaze. “I’m going to go check on Clarke and drag her back into the group.” She takes a couple of steps and turns. “I agree with you… it’s just complicated.”

Raven leans against the counter a moment longer and sips at the soda that Octavia left behind. There’s something that doesn’t sit well with her about the way Octavia told her to talk to Lexa, as if this is a sore spot between the trio over whether or not to keep their relationship a secret. She thinks back to how careful they had been at the hospital when Octavia was injured, at the time she thought it was just a fear of Bellamy’s reaction, but now she wonders if it isn’t more.

The last thing she wants to do is get into it with Lexa on Clarke’s birthday, but she needs to know the state of things now that she’s in this relationship.

It doesn’t take her long to make her way to Lexa’s side and to whisper that they need to talk. Most everyone is inside so they make their way out onto the back porch. The air is chill but not quite winter cold today, and with a blanket or a jacket it’s nice. Neither of them have either. Lincoln is just getting the grill started.

Raven joins Lincoln where he’s lighting the charcoal. “Lincoln, do you think you could duck back inside for a few minutes, I need to talk to Lexa about something and going upstairs…”

“It’d be obvious,” Lincoln nods. “Give me a minute and the backyard is all yours.”

Lexa’s made her way over to the hammock which is just out of sight of the sliding glass door, though not the living room windows. Raven sneaks a look back at the house and doesn’t see Niylah, who, until she gets permission, is the only person at the party she needs to hide the relationship from. She leans over Lexa and kisses her, wondering if it’s cruel to start the conversation like this or kind. Maybe it’s both.

The kiss is short, Lexa pulling away before Raven is ready for her to, that at least gives her a reason to bring this up. She settles down next to Lexa, sliding into her on the hammock so their thighs touch. This close they can feel the warmth from each others’ bodies, and in the chill October air it’s comforting.

“I wish I could kiss you and not have to think about who might see.” Raven lays her hand on Lexa’s knee.

“We can’t.” Lexa shrugs but doesn’t pull away. She doesn’t want to.

“Why though? Everyone here but Niylah knows.” Raven squeezes Lexa’s knee and keeps her voice soft, curious even as she tries to remind herself that she’s just trying to figure out the reasoning behind the secret. “I’m nearly certain she’s figured it out anyway. At least as far as you and Clarke and Octavia are concerned. Not that she’d ever say anything, but we’ve put Anya and Lincoln in an awkward position.”

“It’s not my fault they started dating.” Lexa says defensively.

Raven rubs at her face trying not to mess up her makeup. “Why did Octavia tell me I should talk to you when I suggested we think about coming out to Niylah so Clarke could have her girlfriends actually act like her girlfriends on her birthday?”

It’s out there now at least. Maybe it isn’t Lexa’s fault that she’s put her sister in a place to have to hide something from her girlfriend, but it potentially is her fault, in some way, that the secret exists in the first place.

“Because I’m the one that’s asked us to keep the relationship a secret, for the sake of my career.”

“How is telling Niylah going to have any baring on your job, Lexa?”

“If we get comfortable being out we’ll slip up at the wrong time.”

“And you’d rather give up moments that make your relationship worth it like getting to hold our hands or kiss us on our birthdays after embarrassing us by making everyone sing Happy Birthday than risk maybe feel at ease enough with your relationship and yourself that you out yourself to your boss or your client?” Raven takes a steadying breath. She can feel anxiety wrap around her and gently caress the walls of her heart, a scared litany of  _ not again _ droning on in the back of her mind. She moves her hand back into her lap, but makes no further move to pull away from Lexa.

“You make me sound selfish when you put it like that.” Lexa frowns because all she’s ever wanted is to keep them all safe. “Octavia has to be careful, too, working for the police. And the three of us have talked about this multiple times, we’re just not ready to be out.”

“And yet, Anya knows, I knew, Lincoln knows, Abby knows. The only one of our inner circle of friends that doesn’t know is Niylah… I’m not asking if we could tell the world. I’m asking if we could tell our  _ friend. _ ” Raven looks at Lexa and tries not to panic. “Are you sure it’s all of you that aren’t ready, or just you Lexa?”

Lexa’s shoulders slump and she leans forward to rest her forearms against her knees. She focuses in on her nails, pressing at the nail beds and removing bits of dirt. Anything to keep from having to answer for a moment longer because it hits her deep in her gut that Raven is right and she doesn’t want her to be right. This was their decision, all of theirs, not hers… right? Her stomach clenches.

“Listen, I wasn’t there, so I don’t know how the conversation went, but I get the feeling that whether or not you meant to you are the one that made this decision for the three of you, and now me too. You’re the one with the power right now.” Raven’s jaw trembles but it hasn’t quite reached her voice yet. “And you need to be careful. I’ve been in a relationship where someone started off just wanting the best for me and ended up controlling my entire life. He was afraid and he let it rule him.” She hates the feeling inside her, the fear that someone she loves might so easily go down the same path Wick did. She hates that she’s afraid enough to think that Lexa might treat her like Wick had.

Lexa can feel her heart in her throat as Raven talks, the realization that she’s gotten her way more often than not in this relationship even though she thought she was talking through things. That isn’t who she wants to be, but she isn’t ready to let go. She stands for a brief moment before crouching down in front of Raven. She rests her hands lightly on the outside of Raven’s thighs and looks up at her. Tears are already stinging her eyes.

She isn’t even sure where she should start. The thought that she’s already done something to make Raven afraid rips her apart. “The last thing I want to do is hurt the three of you, or make you feel like we have to do things my way.” She shakes as Raven cups her cheek, then turns her head to kiss Raven’s palm. 

“I’m not saying you are, I’m saying you need to take a step back and pay attention to what is happening.” Raven’s voice is level and soft. “I’m not upset with you Lexa.”

She nods and leans into Raven’s touch. “I’m not ready. I’m just not ready.” Lexa leans forward and lays her head in Raven’s lap. “Later, maybe not today, because it’s Clarke’s birthday… but the four of us could talk about this. I just need to be ready first, even if it’s just Niylah we’re talking about telling.”

Raven runs her fingers through Lexa’s hair. “We’ll figure each other out and find our rhythm. This is new.” She talk slowly trying to will the tension to drain out of Lexa. They stay like that for a little while longer, breathing back the fear of the ache. It’s only the sound of sliding glass door opening once more that pulls them apart.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven is the last one out the door on purpose, she couldn’t escape the night without getting to say goodnight to her girls, even if the goodbyes have to be quick because Anya probably already has her car idling in the driveway.

“Did you enjoy your party?” Raven whispers in Clarke’s ear. She can feel her heartbeat speed up as Clarke runs her hands along Raven’s back and slides them up under her shirt. Raven shivers.

Clarke bites her lip and nods happily tugging Raven closer. “I did.”

“I’m glad,” Raven leans in closer and kisses Clarke. The tang of alcohol is still on Clarke’s lips and the kiss is messy from both of them. She doesn’t want to leave, the all too familiar ache is running through her and she can’t keep her hands still, instead encouraging the kiss to go deeper than it should as she needs to be heading out the door.

It’s not until Clarke backs her up against the door she’s supposed to be going out of and starts kissing down her neck that she finds enough willpower to cut through the hazy fog of desire. “Clarke,” she draws out the ‘a’ longer than necessary but she’s fighting herself as much as she is Clarke.

Clarke just hums an ascent that she’s heard her name.

“I have to go, Anya and Lincoln and Niylah are already in the car.”

Clarke stops kissing Raven’s neck and straightens up her body rolling against Raven’s in a way that should be illegal. She leans her forearms against Raven’s shoulders and draws her index finger along Raven’s cheek. “You know, you don’t have to go.”

It’s clear what Clarke means, that she wants Raven to stay, wants her in their bed. She almost says yes, but she wants to know that all of them are ready for her to be there, not just one of them. Tonight would be a good night to stay if they were all ready. Then again, it’s been more than a year since she’s had sex and the thought of jumping into bed with three woman that she cares about is overwhelming.

Raven nuzzles her cheek against Clarke’s hand. “As tempting as you are, I should get home, also, if I stay that’ll raise questions.” She takes Clarke’s face in her hands and pulls her in for one more kiss, one she hopes tells Clarke how much she wants to stay if the timing were right. “Someone come and take the birthday girl to bed before I lose my resolve.”

A few moments later she feels Clarke get pulled gently away from her and Octavia takes her place. She leans into Raven hesitantly as if she’s still wondering how they fit together. Raven cups her jaw in one hand and wraps her other arm loosely around the other girl’s waist. She lets Octavia lead the kiss though, soft and sweet and nothing more than goodnight without the words. Octavia pulls back just as gently as she leaned in.

“I’ve got her. Text when you get home?” Octavia’s smile is shy and it warms a part of Raven she’d long forgotten existed.

“Of course,” Raven breathes out.

Octavia half tumbles towards the staircase with Clarke, they’re kissing and giggling, more laughter than kisses but it’s wonderful to watch. Raven doesn’t want to just watch though, she wants to follow that joy up the stairs and into bed.

“Meet you upstairs when you’re done saying goodnight, okay?” Octavia calls back to Lexa.

Lexa dips her head and nods. “I’ll be right there, don’t get started without me.” She walks slowly over to Raven who still has her back up against the front door. “Are you sure you have to go?” She wraps her arms around Raven resting their foreheads together.

“I’ll be back tomorrow night for movies and dinner while Clarke and O are at the ceremony.” Raven kisses Lexa softly.

“So we can pick this back up?” Lexa asks between soft nearly chaste kisses.

Raven hugs Lexa and sways, “Yeah, we can do that.”

The hug ends, Raven grabs her jacket and runs her hand through her hair, throwing it back up into a messy bun, but one less messy, less looking like she just kissed her three girlfriends. With a last goodbye she slips out the front door and hurries toward Anya’s car idling in the driveway hoping she can keep her feelings to herself and not broadcast their secret.

##  _______________________________________

 

The banquet hall is loud and filled with cops in dress uniforms and their partners. Each year the police department had a ceremony to honor cops who had performed above and beyond. Thanks to being in the right place at the right time Lincoln and Octavia were on that short list and expected to be in attendance, even though it’s been less than a week since Octavia’s been put back on light duty.

Octavia reaches for Clarke’s hand but stops short. It doesn’t matter that most of the cops who know her knew Clarke as her girlfriend if they knew Clarke at all. She rubs her hand against the leg of her slacks to take away the itching need for touch. Her head throbs with the press of the noise echoing around her.

Maybe they should have stayed home with Lexa and Raven. Her absence tonight would be excused. She’s barely been cleared for desk work.

Clarke walks as close to Octavia as she can without touching her, hands constantly hovering in the bubble of warmth just above Octavia’s skin. It’s close enough to feel each other, as if the very essence of their energy is caressing, electrons jumping from one of them to the other and back. 

“How are you?” Clarke leans over to whisper as they reach their table, fortunately tucked along the edge of the banquet hall. The fortune only extends so far because at some point during the night both Lincoln and Octavia will be getting up to receive medals of commendation.

Octavia can feel the press of the room. She rolls her neck and tugs at the collar of her dress uniform. “Yeah, it’s just a lot after being home for more than a week.”

Lincoln, having already helped Anya into her seat moves behind Clarke to do the same.

“To be fair this bunch is overwhelming on a good day.” He says as he pulls out Clarke’s chair.

“Hey, that’s my job.” Octavia protests.

“Yeah, but there are rules we’re playing by tonight, so I get this honor.”

Octavia brushes up toe to toe with Lincoln, a playful glint in her eye. He has a good eight inches on her and she barely comes up to his shoulder, having to crane her neck to stare him down from below.

“Can I sit?” Clarke asks.

There’s laughter and shuffling and the four of them are huddled together on one side of a table meant for ten. Clarke tries not to lament that they’ll be in completely mixed company. For now she reaches out and holds Octavia’s hand underneath the table. They’re seated close enough that the gesture is barely noticeable. She leans over to whisper in Octavia’s ear.

“You look really hot in that uniform, I can’t wait to get you out of it tonight.” She slides back into her seat looking like she said something completely innocent while Octavia purses her lips and tries to swallow down the blush creeping up her neck and the retort on her lips.

“These things are ridiculous, I wish we could just skip it.” Lincoln leans back in his chair. He’s got one arm around the back of Anya’s chair, not protective or predatory, but simply enjoying being able to be close to his girlfriend.

“If you don’t want to be here, and I don’t want to be here, why are we here Linc?” Octavia pouts.

“They’re honoring you for protecting kids from a would be mass shooter.” Anya reaches out to rub her hand over Lincoln’s thigh.

“It’s the job, that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“We were lucky we were there to do something.” Octavia shakes her head. “We didn’t do anything that any other cop on the force shouldn’t have thought to do.”

Clarke wishes she could reach out for Octavia the way Anya does with Lincoln, “Still, you saved lives, that’s worth something.”

“Which is enough, I don’t need a medal and my name on list. I’d rather see all this money go toward something better.” Octavia shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. The whole night smacks of pomp and circumstance, privilege and self congratulation. Acceptable public masturbatory exercises. “Fuck knows more cops in this country could use some training on non-lethal de-escalation… or you know gun safety training, period.”

“Yeah…” the feeling around the table drops. The reality of the situation before them hitting heavy as the very thing they’re supposed to stand for is being ruined by people who have no respect for the job because they have no respect for human life. 

Silence stretches and for a while it seems like that might be the hill the conversation dies on.

“So as soon as you two get your medals we’re sneaking out, right?” Clarke looks to Anya. If anyone was going to be able to come up with a plan to get them across the banquet hall and outside. 

Anya winks. If they make it through the main course Clarke will be surprised.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven snuggles closer to Lexa on the couch, her head leaning against the back as she shifts so her legs are across Lexa’s lap. They’ve got a movie on Netflix they aren’t really watching, instead they’re sinking imperceptibly deeper into the couch watching each other. Their hands are entwined thumbs caressing palms as they exchange reassuring squeezes. Every so often Raven rests her thumb against the pulse point on Lexa’s wrist. It’s habit, one she tries not to think about too much but it comforts her.

The house is quiet except for the movie, which is turned down so low it’s no more than an excuse to be on the couch.

Lexa can’t stop smiling. “I’m glad you came over today.” It’s hard to not get to go support Octavia, but the post-ceremony dinner only allowed for a plus one, and Lincoln was bringing Anya. Octavia had promised to make it up to her later but that didn’t take away the sting of not getting to go. Not that they could have been out together if she had gone. At least this way Clarke and Octavia could be minimally affectionate, most people thought they were still together.

Maintaining eye contact Raven raises their hands to her lips. “Me too. We don’t usually get any real quiet time.”

They’ve had moments, short and sweet, but with four girls making an effort to date, and all the ups and downs of recovery it was rare there was a quiet moment that didn’t have them passing out a few seconds later.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Lexa turns their hands over and kisses Raven’s palm.

“I thought we were watching a movie.” Raven raises an eyebrow. She’s happy to stay here but there’s an ache that’s been building inside her since the first kiss with Clarke that she can’t ignore. 

“I’ve already forgotten what we put on.” Lexa dips her head and bites her bottom lip.

Raven leans forward and undoes the suction that holds her prosthetic in place. “Is this okay?” there’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice but she swallows the feeling down. Lexa nods and kisses her cheek as she removes the limb and protective sock. Almost before she can roll down her leggings Lexa’s hand is on her leg, gently massaging the worn muscles. She tries not to react the way she wants to the touch but she has little choice.

The massage is much needed. Her leg is aching and while Lexa’s touch burns it also feels good for more reason that one. Right now though Raven doesn’t want to waste the energy in Lexa’s deft fingers on a massage.

She shifts so she can put her weight on her good leg and sit up to straddle Lexa’s lap. She settles down and already her heart speeds up. “Is this okay?” Raven echoes her earlier question before brushing her nose against Lexa’s. Their breath mingles. Lexa nods.

She wasn’t expecting this when Clarke and Octavia left for the ceremony and celebration but the grip her heartache has on her lessens as Raven starts touching her, no more than a hand flat against her sternum but it’s as if her heart jumps to life beneath that touch, a steady solid thud that echoes through them both. Her own hands slide over the curve of Raven’s ass and settle on her thighs.

“I was thinking we could pick up where we left things in the car.” Raven kisses Lexa open mouthed, there’s nothing delicate about it.

“We do have an entire house to ourselves.” Lexa says between kisses.

Fingers tangle in hair, hands slide under shirts and kisses shift from light to deep and bruising teeth and tongue and breath being held too long. Raven kisses down Lexa’s neck sucking the flesh into her mouth leaving a trail of purple bruises in her wake. Her lips hover over Lexa’s pulse point, just barely brushing against it. They’ve stumbled from just barely dating to intense couch make out sessions with no inbetween.

Not that either is complaining. There hasn’t been the awkward phase where they get to know each other.

Lexa tangles her hand in Raven’s hair and grips firmly. Raven gasps surprised by how much she enjoys it and quickly surmises that it must be Lexa taking control more than anything. She whimpers half in pleasure and half in further pleasure being denied. 

Her mind is edging on the border between blank and overwhelmed. Lexa tugs her head back so they’re face to face and Raven lets her, jaw slack, eyes glassy. She’s certain she’d let Lexa do whatever she wanted.

The thought scares her a little. She’s never been much for giving up control during sex, instead preferring to take it, and after Wick she wasn’t certain she would ever let anyone hold her still… but Lexa is looking at her with such a powerful tenderness that she isn’t worried. There’s a heady strength in the jut of Lexa’s jaw but her eyes are tender and searching like she just wants to ensure Raven feels the depth of her feeling.

Raven’s throat works, trying to form words but she can’t wait. Lexa’s hand still grips her hair. They’re almost close enough to kiss but Lexa is waiting, watching her and Raven can do nothing but roll her hips in Lexa’s lap, desperately begging as much as she can for what they started to continue.

When Lexa lets her go and they crash together in another kiss Raven feels it go straight to her core. It’s a sharp ache almost more pain than pleasure. As the kiss deepens she feels like she is more need than anything, her heart pulled along held up exposed yet still beating. Somehow still beating even though all she can feel is the depth of potential feeling, a four letter word she’s been skirting around but presses at the corners of her mind more often than she’s ready for it.

Fully clothed and she’s exposed in front of Lexa.

“We have the entire house to ourselves,” Raven says definitively. They have more than this couch.

Lexa pauses trying to take in Raven’s echo of her own words. She can barely think beyond the warm flesh beneath her hands or the way her lips are already bruised from kissing. Honestly all she’d had planned for the night was Netflix and passing out while cuddling on the couch… maybe a little kissing. But this…

Raven’s hands come to rest on top of hers underneath Raven’s shirt and with a gentle tug their hands are moving upwards, skirting over Raven’s sides. Lexa lifts the shirt the rest of the way and drops it behind her.

All she can do is taken in Raven’s beauty as she leans forward to whisper in Lexa’s ear, “It’d be a shame to let that go to waste.”

Lexa’s hands trace up Raven’s bare sides as she marvels in her sinewy from, muscles visible just beneath the skin. Her exploration is reverent. “That it would.”

She leans forward, lips trailing after fingertips, kissing along Raven’s collarbone, and back across as she knocks Raven’s bra straps off her shoulders. Slipping her index fingers under the edge of the band of Raven’s bra she traces it around to the back. She looks up to Raven from where her face is poised between her breasts, breath tickling against her skin. “Can I?”

Raven nods and licks her lips. Lexa wastes no time removing the bra.

Her lips hover over Raven’s skin, there’s no denying what they’re about to do now, not with Raven half naked in her lap. She places small delicate kisses on both of her breasts, thumbs brushing against the underside as she lays her palms flat against her ribcage.

She trails nails lightly down Raven’s side until they come to rest on her thighs. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“You’re only saying that because my boobs are fantastic,” Raven quips.

“No.” Lexa shakes her head. “They are spectacular, but I mean,  _ you _ , all of you.” Lexa watches as realization hits Raven, her lips part, and eyes shine with tears. She wants to make up for every time Raven’s felt less than enough, every time she’s felt like less than the stunning beauty that she is. “Can I take you upstairs to bed? I want to show you just how much I mean that.”

Raven opens her mouth to reply but instead the tears start to fall. Her jaw trembles and she nods yes. She’s certain she’s never seen anyone look at her with as much awe as Lexa is right now, as if she’s important and wonderful and everything. 

“Is this going to be okay?” Raven doesn’t want to ask, she just wants to melt into Lexa’s arms and fall into bed. “With Clarke and Octavia? It’s their bed.”

Lexa runs her hands along Raven’s legs, settling underneath her ass so she can easily lift her. “We’re all dating you, we’re allowed to take each of the partnerships at its own pace until we’re all ready to be together.” Lexa squeezes Raven’s ass. “It’s my bed, too, and I want you in it… if you want to be.”

Raven dips her head down and kisses Lexa softly, “Take me to bed.”

Lexa stands, carefully adjusting Raven in her arms until she feels confident in tackling the stairs. She moves slowly, carefully, not wanting to drop her precious cargo or trip. Their hearts are drums beating between them, a call and response drawing them together. It’s as if a liminal space has connected them are there is no question that they see each other complete and whole without the outside world there to interfere.

This is a space that is theirs alone.

Lexa kneels on the bed and shuffles forward to lay Raven down in the middle. She kisses her, kisses down her bare torso, before sliding back to her feet. She watches Raven watch her as she undresses, pants, shirt, bra, underwear. Under Raven’s gaze she’s never felt more seen, as if her thoughts and soul are bare. Her exposed skin is of little further consequence, except in the darkening of Raven’s eyes, the quickening of her breath.

Raven reaches for the button on her jeans but Lexa stops her with a small shake of her head, “Let me.”

She kneels between Raven’s legs and she’s never been so sure or so nervous in her life. Her hands at least are steady as she undoes the button and zipper before sliding Raven’s jeans and underwear off all in one go.

Her heart beats faster with the sight beneath her. She freezes, fingertips dusting along Raven’s calf. All she wants is to memorize every inch of Raven’s skin until she knows the map of it as well as she does Clarke and Octavia’s. Which spots will make her squirm? Which ones will turn her on? Where does she like it rough, or pain? Or not at all? What changes the more turned on she is?

The wealth of possibility lies beneath her and her heart fills to the brim again. She has Octavia and Clarke  _ and Raven _ and she gets to spend the rest of her life showing them just how much she loves them.

Raven beckons Lexa down with a single curled finger. “I take it you like what you see?” She runs her hands over Lexa’s back as she comes to hover over her.

Lexa nods and murmurs an assent still rendered speechless by the woman beneath her. 

“I do too,” Raven arches up, their bodies barely brush together but it’s enough to steal the breath from them both and leave them breathing heavily.

“I want you in all the ways there is to want a person,” Lexa brushes her nose against Raven’s as she lowers herself down until she’s nestled between Raven’s legs, their bodies flush together.  She rests on her forearms, hands coming up to cup Raven’s shoulders from behind. She kisses the corner of her mouth.

The immensity of the feelings wrapping around her pulls tears to her eyes. It’s the way Clarke and Octavia have trusted her, how Raven has opened up to her. It’s the emotions she sees reflected in Raven’s eyes. It’s in the raw burning desire that sears her flesh everywhere they touch.

Raven reaches up to brush tears from Lexa’s eyes, seeing the vulnerability there on Lexa’s face and knowing she feels the same. They’re stripped. All the pain of their pasts seen, not forgotten as they wrap around each other. Raven knows she’s crying too. Their kisses shake with it.

From the beginning they’ve been able to understand each other without words. A simple look is all they need and they know. Touch only amplifies that.

Raven doesn’t hold back in her pleasure as Lexa’s mouth works down her neck and torso. She finds it impossible to hold back and easy to let go. Her fingers tangle in Lexa’s hair, encouraging with each nip of teeth and swipe of tongue. Her other hand scrambles for a pillow so she can watch Lexa without straining her neck. She doesn’t want to miss a moment.

She cries out when Lexa’s mouth connects with her inner thigh. Tingling electricity shoots through her and she arches up, practically begging. Teeth settle around silk smooth skin and she shakes. She doesn’t miss how Lexa’s focus is on her good leg, or that she’s tracing the scars on Raven’s other leg with a delicate fingertips as if she’s testing out touch and reaction.

Raven watches as Lexa lifts her head she turns her attention to Raven’s sex, just for a moment, clearly breathing it in. A whine escapes Raven’s throat and it’s all she has in her not to bring her hips up to meet Lexa’s waiting mouth. As if she knows what Raven is thinking Lexa wraps her arms underneath Raven’s thighs, her hands pressing down against her hip bones to keep her in place. Raven rocks her hips experimentally against Lexa’s hands, relishing in the pressure she finds. She feels safe in Lexa’s hands.

Lexa turns her head to Raven’s other leg, tracing scars and clear patches of skin with soft open mouthed kisses. Raven expects herself to tense but finds herself instead relaxing further into the bed. There’s nothing but awe and love in the way Lexa touches her, absent is the pity she’s so used to, even from the most well intentioned of lovers. She writhes under the touch needing it to move back to center, the teasing almost more than she can stand.

When Lexa turns back to her center she doesn’t wait, doesn’t tease. Raven’s barely registered that Lexa’s mouth has left her thigh when she feels a warm wet tongue part her folds before making a large quick circle around her clit as Lexa’s lips wrap around it. Raven’s hips buck, but Lexa presses her into the bed, holding her in place.

A curse escapes her lips,  _ “Lex-- não, hmn, não para. Por favor, não para!” _

Her heel press into the bed as she tries to find a way to get more friction, more touch. Lexa digs her fingernails into Raven’s skin, scratching at the skin of her low abdomen. She can already feel the twisting tugging build of her orgasm. Her muscles ache with the quickness of it, the rapid contraction designed to facilitate penetrative sex. She gasps on the edge of pain, but doesn’t mind as Lexa’s tongue continues its relentless ministrations.

Raven closes her eyes, unable to lay back and enjoy the moment, too caught up in the fire that floods her veins. It’s been too long since anyone else touched her, let alone touched her with so much care. She’ll worry about being potentially embarrassed later, right now she’s tumbling into a white hot pit of bliss. 

Stars burst to life behind her eyelids, she isn’t quite certain she’s in her body anymore except she can feel Lexa’s mouth working on her, her hands holding Raven down. All that’s left of her is the sensation of the building orgasm. Pulling her closer and closer to that edge is Lexa’s tongue. That’s the end and the beginning of what she knows. 

Her throat is raw with crying out her pleasure.

She isn’t sure how but Lexa keeps her right on that edge until she’s begging, which may have been only a few moments, but her orgasm hits. It’s a long dive off a cliff into warm water. Her muscles seize and shake and she stops breathing as it washing over her, envelopes her so that all she feels is that pulsing pleasure between her legs.

Raven surfaces slowly, limbs heavy, and mind blurry. Lexa is still kissing her sex languidly, Raven can feel the smile on her lips each time Raven’s body jumps as she brushes her clit. She doesn’t have the words to ask her to stop or to come kiss her on the mouth. Her head lolls to the side and all she can do is smile.

“ _ Puta que pariu você é talentosa _ ” Raven breathes out.

“Talented, huh?” Lexa kisses Raven’s hip bone and makes her way back up to hover over Raven. She rests her forearms on the pillow around Raven’s head and kisses her cheeks. Raven feels Lexa’s lips slide against wetness, tears. “I’ve got you,” Lexa whispers as she places feather light kisses on her eyelids.

When Lexa finally pulls back Raven opens her eyes for the first time since her orgasm shook her. There’s still traces of come on Lexa’s face but Raven isn’t sure she’s ever seen her look more beautiful. Her hair is a wild mess and there’s a soft wonder in her eyes, even her smile is shy.

Too many words nearly tumble off her tongue as four letter feelings well up inside her. Raven lifts up to kiss Lexa gently. And before long Lexa’s tears mingle with Raven’s, overwhelmed by the profoundness of what is passing between them.

Lexa cuddles into Raven’s side, one leg tossed across Raven’s thighs, her arm across Raven’s stomach. She rests her cheek on Raven’s shoulder. They lay there for a while, breathing, processing, being. Lexa kisses Raven’s neck softly and settles back down into the pillow, closing her eyes.

Raven looks to her and wonders if she can give Lexa half as much as she has given her. There’s only one way to find out, and if she can’t, she keeps going until she has. She doesn’t want to wait for another night to start to show Lexa what she means to her.

“Don’t tell me you think we’re done for tonight.” Raven nudges Lexa onto her back and in one fluid motion is hovering over her. 

Lexa bites her swollen bottom lip, “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Clarke and Octavia aren’t home yet, and I don’t want to be done.” Raven grinds her hips down against Lexa’s a wild grin on her lips. “Not that I’d mind them joining, they’re my girlfriends too, but I’m enjoying having you all to myself right now.”

There’s something in the way that Raven calls Clarke and Octavia her girlfriends that wraps warm and pure around Lexa’s heart and the tears are back in her eyes. She wonders if there’s a world record for number of times cried during sex and pulls Raven down for a kiss. 

This is what the beginning of forever feels like.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s a little past midnight when Clarke and Octavia finally get home from the ceremony and unofficial celebration with Lincoln and Anya. Clarke unlocks the door; Octavia is at her back giggling and handsy.

“Finally,” Octavia breathes out. “I thought I was going to combust not being able to touch you.”

Clarke’s back slams against the front door, shutting it. Octavia slams into Clarke mouth first. She moans into the kiss that follows, body arching into Octavia’s. Her hands scrabble to find their way underneath Octavia’s jacket and pull her close. Octavia already has her dress shirt undone and Clarke wastes no time running her hands over bare skin. The kiss is heady and breathless, more desire and passion than anything. It’s nearly six hours of making eyes at each other and touch surreptitiously under the table coming to a head, any sense of decorum thrown out the window.

She nudges Octavia back. “Bed first, otherwise we’re going to end up doing it on the floor again and I don’t need another friction burn on my ass.”

Octavia whines but nods as they pull apart haphazardly hanging coats and kicking off heels they wanted to take off two hours ago. She’s halfway across the room when she realizes the lights are still on. Lexa always turns off the lights.

“Clarke?”

“Yeah babe?” Clarke giggles, crashing into Octavia and kissing her shoulder, she opens her mouth setting her teeth lightly on Octavia’s bare skin.

“Lights.”

“I wonder if Lexa left them on when she took Raven home?” Clarke looks around for anything out of place, only then remembering Lexa’s Lexus in the driveway. In her slightly inebriated state it all looks like they left it. Except the shirt behind the couch. She crosses back to it and picks it up. “I don’t think Raven went home.” She shows the shirt to Octavia and glances around for more evidence, finding Raven’s bra on couch. Quickly folding the shirt she drops it next to the bra and crosses to Octavia, pulling her into a hug and swinging her gently.

“Something tells me we weren’t the only ones in the mood tonight,” Clarke whispers before kissing Octavia and nipping at her bottom lip.

Octavia glances up at the ceiling and toward their bedroom. The house is silent.

“They’re probably cuddling or passed out.” Clarke kisses Octavia’s cheek, trying to pull Octavia out of her head.

Octavia can’t discern what she’s feeling. It’s part sadness, but not that Lexa and Raven had sex, but that she still isn’t ready. One steamy kiss doesn’t make the trepidation in her heart any less. She wonders if it would be easier if she shared her first time with Raven with Clarke or Lexa or both of them together. Despite her uncertainty she knows that she’s slowly tumbling in that direction. She loves them all too much not to.

“Hey, are you okay?” Clarke cups Octavia’s face in her hands and turns her face until their gaze meets.

“Yeah, I just hadn’t thought about this.” Octavia kisses Clarke’s palm.

“About someone you love fucking someone new for the first time? And you aren’t there?” Clarke pries gently. They had never talked about this, what it would mean to each of them when they had first started dating Lexa, and other than giving each other the okay, they hadn’t talked about what it might mean with Raven. “We did this with Lexa. We can do this with Raven.”

Octavia frowns, “I had been thinking we could wake Lexa up.”

“You know… we could wake them both up.” Clarke waggles her eyebrows and starts to walk them backwards toward the stairs.

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” Octavia pauses at the bottom, worrying the inside of her lip between her teeth.

“Sex bed then? Unless we’ve killed the mood?”

Octavia shakes her head and leans in to kiss Clarke, whispering against her lips, “Take me to bed, we’ll wake them in the morning with snuggles… right now I want to finish what I started when I slammed you against the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Portuguese:  
> Lex-- não, hmn, não para. Por favor, não para! - holy fuck, oh my- don't stop (roughly)  
> Puta que pariu você é talentosa - Holy shit you're talented. 
> 
> _______________
> 
> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	28. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 7 | 9 months ago

Their usual booth at their monthly dinner out is squeezed tighter than normal. Instead of ten, they’re eleven tonight. Bellamy’s girlfriend is wedged between Bellamy and Lincoln looking like she belongs more than Bellamy does.

“A year? How did you manage to keep her from us for  _ a year _ ?” Octavia exclaims.

Bellamy scratches at his temple, smiling as he looks over to Gina. “It’s been a busy year, and dinner night is sacred. I wanted to make sure she would survive all of you before I subjected her to you all.”

“It is a sacred night. Speaking of, phones on the table.” Niylah plonks her phone down in the center of the table.

“Clarke and Lexa aren’t even here yet,” Raven flicks on the screen of her phone to see if there’s a message. It’s blank.

“They should be here after they get the gallery set, right?” Anya asks.

Octavia glances at her phone before sliding it out towards the center of the table. “That’s what they said but they could run late.”

“Which means we’ll probably be nearly done with the appetizers by the time they get here. Phones out.” Niylah taps the table.

Lincoln and Anya’s phones hit the table next, Anya’s perched on top of Lincoln’s. Monty and Jasper are still digging their phones out when Gina speaks up.

She’s fixing Niylah with a stare, one eyebrow raised, like she’s trying to suss things out without having to ask. “What’s the deal with the phones?”

“If someone reaches for their phone during dinner without an agreement from the whole table that they can, then that person pays for dinner. If no one checks their phone, everyone pays their own bill.” Raven sends a quick text to the girlfriend group chat that Niylah called phones out and adds hers to the pile.

Gina looks around the table like they’re all crazy but she adds her phone to the pile. “Has anyone ever had to buy dinner for  _ everyone _ ?”

Several of them simply point to Anya. Anya raises her hand.

“Damn,” Gina whistles.

Anya shrugs, “I answered a work email, called it a business dinner, boss isn’t likely to complain.” She winks.

“What do you do?”

“I own Ogeda Fashions.” Anya sips at her wine like it’s nothing. Gina nearly chokes on her drink.

“Alright then,” Gina laughs. “Not impressive at all. I’ll make sure I only tell you the impressive parts of my resume.”

“Don’t worry, we haven’t kicked Bellamy out yet,” Octavia teases. “I’m sure you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Hey!” Bellamy throws a wadded up straw paper at Octavia. “I’ll have you know my job is very important.”

“Alright there, Augustus.” Octavia shakes her head, but she’s smiling.

“You mean Augustus as in Octa- oh.” Gina stops herself mid-sentence and side eyes Bellamy.

“Yup,” Octavia gives Gina her best don’t-look-at-me-I-don’t-control-him look. “He did pick my name.”

“You named your sister after a Roman Emperor’s half-sister?” Gina shakes her head. “I can’t believe… really?”

“I was eight!”

“Nerd.” Gina mutters.

“Now you get it,” Raven raises her glass to clink it with Gina’s. “Welcome to the chaos.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa leans against Anya’s drafting table. They were supposed to be going for lunch but Anya is doing a last minute redesign for a picky client and insisted she send her assistant out for takeaway. She picks up a ruler and turns it end over end in her hands feeling it press into the pads of her fingertips as she makes a slow circuit around her sister’s workstation.

She drags her feet as she walks, tapping the toe of her shoe to the ground whenever she stops, turning in a small circle before continuing on. She nearly lets herself collapse into one of the oversized decorative chairs but instead goes to the wall of windows looking out into the city. Anya always said natural light was the best for thinking through problems. Lexa has a lot of thinking to do.

A lot of thinking that she isn’t ready to do. Unfortunately she doesn’t have the luxury to ignore it anymore because she is no longer an island. Some things were easier when she was. She didn’t have to deal with the pain in her chest, she could detach herself from whatever was causing her problems, turn away, take a different path. Lexa walked away from a lot of good things in her life.

Digging the corner of the metal ruler into her palm she bangs her head gently against the window. The carefully guarded yet haunted look in Raven’s eyes won’t leave her alone.

“Lexa, have you seen my straight edge?”

Lexa holds it up and taps it against the glass.

“Can you bring it over?” Anya sighs heavily.

There’s something in their relationship that pulls them back to their younger selves. The petulant teenager and young not-quite-mother, perpetually exhausted with each other. Lexa hands over the ruler and crosses her arms on Anya’s desk to lay her chin on.

“Am I selfish, Anya?”

Lexa watches Anya finish drawing her lines, a careful, blank expression on her face until she sets down the ruler and pencil and moves the sketch aside so she can lean on her work station opposite Lexa and fix her with a stare.

“You’re driven and focused and don’t let go of the things you want. You’re like me in that, good or bad.”

Lexa frowns and fiddles with a pencil. “What if what I think I need to do to get what I want hurts someone I love? How do I reconcile that?” She lets the pencil go and it spins lazily across the desk.

“Can you get what you want without doing this thing that might hurt someone?” Anya holds Lexa’s gaze and Lexa wonders if she even needs to tell Anya what it is, or if, like always, she already knows.

“It’s riskier.”

Not hiding her relationship with Clarke and Octavia and Raven could mean a hundred adverse things for her career and her clients, the most and least of which would be turned into some sort of example in the court. Who she is would be used against her by the wrong people. Octavia could find herself cornered by bigots at work, ones larger and stronger than her. Raven could face prejudice from the conservatives at her university and be passed over for tenure.

“What do you get if you take that risk? If that’s worth it, then all the worrying about what if, it doesn’t matter.” Anya reaches out and squeezes Lexa’s forearm. “I didn’t raise you to give up when things get tough.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and presses her forehead against Anya’s hand. “I can’t give up, on any of it… I can’t give up on them,” she whispers. “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

She feels Anya breathe out and knows she’s being fixed with a sorrowful stare. “You’ve been dating them for two years and I don’t think Raven is going anywhere either. So stop this. Stop blaming them for something Costia did.”

Lexa winces.

“Stop letting your fear rule you. Find a way to make your girls happy, you’re in a relationship, which means the four of you need to find a compromise about whatever it is you’re hung up on. Things won’t feel better until you do.”

“Since when did you get so good at relationships?” Lexa straightens up. She frowns because Anya is right, and that means she has to find a way to change. She needs to find it in her to not allow her fear of being abandoned break the most resilient souls she’s ever known.

Anya steps around the drafting table and wraps Lexa up in a hug. “I’ve been lucky enough in life to have some truly lovely people decide to love me. Just please, please, don’t run away from something tough because you’re wary about the future. I don’t know if I could watch you break yourself like that again. I love you, Lex.”

Lexa lets herself get lost in Anya’s embrace, sinewy strength from years of training, her one constant safe haven. She feels like she can do anything as long as Anya is there to whisper in her ear and hold her when the world is too much. Ever since she was little she’s been loved. “I’m lucky, too. I just don’t listen well.”

Anya laughs, more of a shuddering breath than sound.

“Love you, too, sis.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven’s sat with her legs across Clarke’s lap on the couch as they watch the first season of  _ iZombie _ , which Netflix had finally released. It’s been a lazy afternoon, with Clarke sketching and Raven grading while they debate the finer points of a zombie apocalypse. 

Being able to keep up a solid jog was of the utmost importance, probably second only to accuracy when swinging something bat shaped. 

Raven doesn’t notice at first that Clarke has set aside her sketchpad, instead opting to trace patterns along her leg. Instead it’s a slight tug and twist as Clarke presses against the side of the leg. She watches for a moment, transfixed by the intensity with which Clarke is absorbed in her designs, clearly imagining brush strokes as her fingers flick across the metal and plastic underneath her jeans.

A small half smile quirks the corner of Clarke’s mouth downward as if she’s trying not to smile. She rearranges, conscious of the fact that Raven is watching her now, her movements slowing. Clarke lets the smile blossom across her face both shy and happy.

“I was thinking…” Clarke trails of.

Raven leans forward so their faces are closer, not quite sitting close enough to kiss unless Clarke moves, but she only turns her head. “What about?” Raven asks raising an eyebrow. Her hand lays over Clarke’s, thumb rubbing against her knuckles.

“You’re getting a new leg soon, yeah?” Clarke squeezes Raven’s fingers.

“Yes.” Raven sounds skeptical.

Clarke chews on her bottom lip. “Could I maybe paint it? Or paint this one?” She taps the prosthetic gently. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to give you some art to keep with you.”

Raven flexes her good leg and pulls herself further into Clarke’s lap. Her heart swelling with happiness. She kisses her lightly, hands cupping Clarke’s jaw and tangling in her hair. It only takes a moment for Clarke to deepen the kiss. Raven sighs contentedly, revelling in the fact that she can kiss and touch her girls whether they’re alone or in a group.

Clarke tugs on Raven’s bottom lip with her teeth before soothing it with her tongue. “So, is that a yes?” she asks between kisses.

“Yeah.”

“Can we go upstairs?”

Raven nods and slides off of Clarke’s lap onto her feet, taking her hand to pull Clarke with her. Clarke blushes as she stands, pressing up against Raven’s back, wrapping around her, and snuggling close even as they slowly start to move toward the staircase. Clarke opens her mouth pressing her teeth against Raven’s shoulder, joy bubbling up in her. 

They walk up the stairs, Clarke’s hands on Raven’s hips. Clarke leads them into her studio and turns on the lights.

“It’d probably be easiest if I could paint your leg when it isn’t on, though, I could work with that too.” Clarke says over her shoulder.

Raven half leans half perches on the lone stool in Clarke’s studio as Clarke rummages through her paints and brushes for the things she needs. She drums her fingers against her thigh and tries to think if these are jeans she can just shimmy the prosthetic out of or if she’s going to have to take them off. She hadn’t thought this through when she had agreed to let Clarke paint her prosthetic.

Clarke moves a low work table toward the center of the room where she has a drop cloth spread and lays out her paints. It’s only then that she sees Raven waiting like she’s ready to run at any moment. She crosses the room and stands in front of Raven, her fingertips just barely grazing Raven’s thighs.

“We don’t have to do this, today, or at all. I just thought it might be fun, if you wanted it that is.” Clarke backtracks. She can feel Raven’s hesitation rolling off her and she doesn’t know where it’s coming from.

“No it’s just… I, uh,” Raven taps her prosthetic and gestures vaguely before picking at her jeans. She can’t quite meet Clarke’s questioning gaze.

“I’ve seen you without your prosthetic before,” Clarke says softly as she rests her hands on Raven’s waist. She leans forward slightly pressing into Raven’s space.

Raven raises her hand up index finger trailing along Clarke’s neck and twisting around the neck of her shirt. “I know, but these jeans are tight and I’ll have to take them off.”

Clarke’s grin is devious. Her hands slide up under the edge of Raven’s shirt. “What? Think I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself if you’re down to your skivvies.” She leans forward, her breath tickles Raven’s throat.

Butterflies erupt in Raven’s stomach, nerves tinged with excitement, but also worry. She’s falling hard for each of her girlfriends. Platonic friendly love melding into romantic love and desire. She doesn’t feel like she deserves this much love, as if she’s been too damaged by her past to be allowed this much happiness. Her chest tightens and she looks away from Clarke not certain yet if she’s ready to allow herself this, that perhaps Clarke deserves more than her.

Clarke nearly pulls away, but there’s something in the way that Raven hasn’t tried to do so herself that has her moving her hands over Raven’s sides, her arms, until her hands come up to lift Raven’s gaze by cradling her face gently. One look from Raven, eyes wide and shiny, warm brown and gold eyes bursting with emotion. It picks at her heart and she surges forward kissing her hard, trying desperately to find a way to take away the fear she saw running just underneath the surface. 

The kiss deepens quickly, Clarke opening her mouth, tongue and teeth trying to tell a desperate story of desire. She would do anything to alleviate that apprehension, to prove to Raven that she is wonderful and needed and most of all  _ wanted _ . 

Clarke breaks the kiss as quickly as she started it, afraid that she’s pushed too far.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” she lets her hands fall back to her sides. “We can do this another day, when you don’t have skinny jeans on.”

Raven’s hand darts out, her finger hooking around Clarke’s belt loop and tugs her back between her legs. The tension between them is thick in the air, each breath more labored than the last as glassy eyes roam over bodies. She lays her hand over Clarke’s and guides it between them to rest over the button of her jeans. “Take them off.”

“Are you…?” Clarke’s fingers wrap around the metal button.

Raven presses her forehead to Clarke’s. Their breath mingling heavily. “Take them off, and then take yours off.”

Clarke nods rapidly.

She wraps one arm around Raven’s waist and slides her off the stool until they’re pressed together. She flips the button of Raven’s jeans open and slides down the zipper. Her nose presses into Raven’s cheek and she leans her head into Raven’s hands as they run through her hair, nails scratching across her scalp. They pepper each other with quick kisses, trying to undress and stay connected all at once.

Her fingertips underneath the band of Raven’s jeans, she stops. “Do you want to move to the bed?” She wants her to be comfortable. 

Raven shakes her head slightly as her hands come to rest over Clarke and begin to slide down her thighs. “I want our clothes off and your hands and mouth on me.”

“We can do that,” Clarke grins as she tilts her head to press her lips to Raven’s neck. Her hands slide over Raven’s ass as she pushes down her jeans. Her teeth tug at the delicate skin above Raven’s pulse point.

Slowly she kisses open mouthed down to Raven’s collarbone, grumbling when she runs into her shirt. They break apart Clarke’s hands quickly pushing Raven’s shirt up over her head. Raven wastes no time reciprocating the gesture. Bras are shed next and they freeze for a moment, taking in the sights before them.

Raven reaches out, her hands running across the soft curves of Clarke’s stomach, and up underneath her breasts. She runs a thumb across each nipple until it pebbles, enjoying the soft firmness underneath her hands, and the gentle gasps each touch elicits from Clarke. Raven leans into Clarke, kissing her hard. She wants to take this slow, not quick and dirty but her body is fighting her at every step, begging to be touched and kissed.

Clarke however has other plans.

She pulls back from the kiss with a sly shake of her head, hands returning to their earlier position just under the edge of Raven’s jeans as she pushes them down her legs and helps her step out of them. She stands quickly and shucks her own before nudging Raven back to sit on the stool again. Kneeling down between Raven’s legs she looks up at her.

Raven is one of the most beautiful people she has ever known. She has an intense strength about her that quietly lives just under her skin. She is nothing short of complete and wondrous.

Clarke runs her hands over Raven’s thighs and kisses the inside of her knee. She nips gently at the flesh there before kissing it and laying her cheek against it. She drags her fingertips along the top edge of Raven’s prosthetic.

“Do you want this on or off?”

Raven’s breath catches in her throat. Clarke is looking at her with a reverence she isn’t prepared for. An understanding that she doesn’t expect. It’s clear that Clarke accepts her as she is, doesn’t see her as anything than whole yet at the same time understands the depth of pain of her disabilities. 

“Take it off,” she whispers.

Clarke presses up onto her knees and begins the process of taking off the prosthetic, first loosening the seal, setting the limb aside, rolling down the sock and setting it aside to dry, her hands then returning to Raven’s limb to massage it. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” She slows her hands as she looks up at Raven, waiting.

Instead of nodding that Clarke should continue she nudges her shoulders back as she slips off the stool. They tumble gently to the ground, Raven landing between Clarke’s legs. She presses a kiss to Clarke’s sternum. “We can deal with that later, right now I want you. I’m not a precious thing.” She grinds her hips down to illustrate a point.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Clarke,” Raven pushes up so she’s hovering over her again. “You won’t, we can talk about how I know that later, but right now I just want you.”

Clarke’s hands wrap around Raven’s biceps as she pulls her up into a kiss, teeth and tongue and a sudden burning desire to be even closer than they already are. Raven’s skin is warm underneath her hands as she tries to pull her closer, their bodies melding together as they roll together. She slides her hands down Raven’s back nails dragging over skin as Raven arches into her. Her hands fit over the swell of Raven’s ass underneath her underwear, fingers squeezing as she enjoys the soft feeling of Raven above her.

She rolls her hips up to meet Raven’s, a high pitched gasp escaping her throat.

Raven’s hands are magic on her as she lavishes attention across Clarke’s breasts. It’s a gentle kind of torture that leaves her wanting more. Raven shifts so her good leg is positioned between Clarke’s legs, her residual limb pressed tight to Clarke’s outer thigh for balance. Clarke pulls her down grinding against her. Raven grins into the kiss, and Clarke doesn’t care that she can feel the smug pride of it, she wants Raven to know how much she wants her.

Raven presses up onto her hands and knees so she and Clarke are barely touching. Clarke gasps at the loss of contact.

“Need something?” Raven teases.

Clarke tries to tug Raven back down, arching her back up to try to regain contact. “You,” she breathes out.

Raven lays a palm flat on Clarke’s sternum and slides it down her stomach, pressing her into the floor. She turns her hand around and slides her fingertips underneath Clarke’s underwear until she’s cupping her sex.

“How’s this?” Raven whispers against Clarke’s ear.

Clarke’s hips buck as she tries to feel some friction, some kind of release but Raven keeps her touch light despite Clarke’s efforts. The high pitched whine that escapes Clarke’s throat is almost pitiable.

Clarke cracks open one eye, chest heaving because it feels like Raven has turned on every nerve. Each brush of her hand across skin has lit her up and she’s coming undone. She shudders as Raven’s finger gently parts her folds and flicks across her clit.

Her back arches as Raven slips a finger inside her.

She’s an inarticulate mess of exposed nerves driving pleasure through her. All Clarke knows is Raven’s hand between her legs and the press of her lips and swipe of her tongue across skin. It doesn’t take long for the orgasm to start to build as Raven’s fingers curl inside of her caressing the spot just behind her public bone.

Her hands scrabble for purchase against the drop cloth they’ve landed on, but it slips and slides on the hardwood floor. Clarke reaches up her hand landing on the small of Raven’s back, fingernails digging into skin. She pulls her down sharply, needing contact. Raven slips, unable to hold herself up because of her leg. Clarke’s eyes snap open and she’s stammering an apology even as Raven shifts the position of her fingers and continues coaxing Clarke toward an orgasm. Clarke curls her fingertips under so she isn’t digging her nails into Raven’s back anylonger.

“Clarke,” Raven says flicking her thumb over Clarke’s clit. “Relax, it’s okay.” She dips her head down and kisses along Clarke’s neck, teeth pulling gently at the delicate skin that stretches over her collarbone.

Clarke relaxes again by inches as she melts into Raven’s touch again.

“Don’t be afraid to mark me, Clarke, I’m not fragile,” Raven whispers in her ear.

Clarke opens her eyes, her heart thudding in her chest. She’s nearly on the edge of orgasm when she locks eyes with Raven. Both her hands wrap around Raven’s back, nails pressed to skin. Everything opens up between them, the pain and sorrow they bonded over, the laughter they share. Clarke fights to keep eye contact as Raven takes her gently over that edge. Her body shudders, fingernails raking across Raven’s back. With weak arms she pulls Raven down for a kiss.

She’s trembling and only half in her head as Raven kisses her softly. Clarke can’t quite control her movements yet and smiles, body feeling high and floaty, spasms of pleasure hitting her as Raven gently brings her down.

Raven kisses lightly down Clarke’s neck until she can press a kiss to her sternum before laying her ear above Clarke’s heart, listening to it beat. It’s thudding and slowing, and so very very strong and alive. She breathes out and settles in as Clarke’s arms wrap around her.

In this moment she feels a little more like herself again, a little further from the horror of Wick. She feels whole and like being loved again is a thing she could be… a thing she could accept. Her heart is pulling wide open where she had tried to tie it closed. Instead of hiding away the broken parts of her Clarke and Lexa and Octavia are taking them from her gently, loving them, helping her heal.

She catches up Clarke’s wrist in her hand and rubs her thumb across the pulse point hard enough until she’s sure it’s Clarke’s pulse she feels and not her own.

Clarke scratches at Raven’s scalp and kisses the top of her head. “You’re always looking for pulse points.”

Raven kisses the inside of Clarke’s wrist.

“How come?”

Raven presses her face to Clarke’s chest and shakes her head, the tears of happiness lining her eyes pushed out by the sharp memory of pain. She draws in a shuddering breath to steady herself and fails miserably. Clarke’s arms tighten around her; Raven can’t find the strength to say how many times she had listened for Finn’s heartbeat until one day it wasn’t there. Somehow though, she knows Clarke understands.

##  _______________________________________

 

They’ve got nine of them crowded around two bistro tables they’ve pushed together in the corner of the faculty lounge. Lincoln, Niylah, and Anya are spread out between Clarke, Lexa, Raven, and Octavia. Bellamy and Gina are together at the end of the table. Everyone is dressed up in some way. it is Halloween, or close to it. Technically it’s the Friday before, and there’s been minimal effort made on costumes, given that they have Saturday night to actually celebrate. 

“Why are we here?” Anya eyes her drink before downing the last of it.

“Because it’s Halloween and we can’t go the weekend without celebrating fully.” Octavia replies.

“And because you all love me and I have to be here,” Raven shoots finger guns around the table, decidedly tipsy. She wishes she could lean against one of her girlfriends but beyond the question of someone from work potentially seeing them together, Bellamy is here, which is why Anya and Niylah and Lincoln are here. The three are acting as a buffer. Raven leans her chin against Anya’s shoulder. “Right?”

Anya sighs and shoots a look across the table at Niylah and then Lexa. “I thought we were here to be your out when you got fed up with the professors you’re supposed to be sweet talking.”

“You are,” Raven drawls.

“Then why haven’t you been playing nice with the other tenured faculty.” Anya nudges Raven and steals her drink.

Raven sighs and steps back from the table. “Someone come rescue me if I give the signal.”

“What’s her signal again?” Lincoln asks.

Lexa curls her hair around her finger as she takes a sip of her drink.

“Right.” Lincoln shakes his head. “What about you, aren’t you here to sweet talk the boys club?”

“Nah,” Bellamy shakes his head. “Not up for tenure yet, unfortunately not all of us can be Raven Reyes.”

“Nope,” Clarke says distractedly. She’s got one ear in the conversation and her eyes on Raven.

“Maybe next year though,” Gina hugs Bellamy’s arm.

“That’d be nice, then I could finally take that sabbatical and finish the research for my book.”

“If only we all had jobs that paid us to take time off,” Octavia rolls her eyes and shoves her brother good naturedly.

“I wouldn’t be-”

“I know,” Octavia says quietly patting Bellamy’s arm.

“Guys?” Niylah interrupts. “I think that’s the signal. Which one of us is going to go rescue her?”

“You know, I thought she’d last longer.” Anya muses.

“We probably should have sent her out before we let her get past her first drink.” Clarke glances around the table. She can’t be the one to go, and neither can Lexa or Octavia. Everyone glances around, no one really wanting to be the one to go.

Gina steps back from where she’s leaning against Bellamy and the table, “Really? It’s just a bunch of old dudes.” She turns and heads over to Raven.

Bellamy takes a sip of his drink and shakes his head, “She’s never had to deal with those  _ old dudes _ .” 

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke wakes up Monday morning to grey skies, rain, and Raven bouncing onto the bed. The shower is running and Lexa is doing her makeup in the makeshift vanity they have set up on one of the dressers. She rolls over and pulls the comforter over her head. “I was in the studio late.”

“I was informed,” Raven smiles down at the lump under the covers that is Clarke. She’d come over early that morning to train with Octavia and, unknown to Clarke, take Clarke out to celebrate  _ Dia de Finados _ . It wasn’t so much of a full celebration as it was an exercise in catharsis. A day to honor the dead, talk to them, remember who they were. When Raven had found out that Jake and Finn were buried in the same cemetery she decided to take Clarke with her on her annual visit.

It’s an odd thing, visiting cemeteries, all the dead, the end of potential, memories and lives buried deep under mud and grass and trees. Flowers cut from the earth placed on stone, dying and decaying like some strange metaphor for the lives in the ground. Who are those flowers for? The dead? The living? Maybe both.

Raven tugs at the comforter. First she kisses Clarke’s forehead, then her nose, then the corner of her mouth. “I want to take you somewhere this morning before you have to be at the gallery. Lexa said I could borrow the car.”

Clarke fights sleep and wraps her arm around Raven, snuggling closer for warmth, as much as she is hiding her eyes from the light. “Sleep though.”

“I told you this morning might be a bit of a fight to get her up.” Lexa says softly.

“‘s’not,” Clarke mumbles.

“Please? It’s  _ Dia de Finados _ … and it would mean a lot to me if you came with me.”

Clarke groans and rolls onto her back before she sits up. “ _ Dia de _ … Day of the…  _ finados _ ?”

“Dead.” Raven says as she kisses Clarke’s cheek.

Clarke rubs the sleep from her eyes and her fingers come away smudged with yesterday’s mascara and eyeliner. Her head is fuzzy and she’s not quite awake, but her brain is slowly processing. Day of the dead. Raven must be wanting to go see Finn’s grave. The world comes into focus around her and she looks at the hopeful look in Raven’s eyes, the gentle trepidation.

She nods, “Yeah, yeah, okay. I’ll go with you.”

She isn’t sure what she expected but the slow brilliant almost shy smile Raven gives her is not it. Her heart melts a little. Raven’s lips taste like mint, the smile a bright warm press against Clarke’s.

“Breakfast first?” Clarke scratches her scalp and breathes in deep trying to wake herself up. 

“Of course.” Raven slips off the bed and kisses Lexa on the cheek as she passes by.

The shower shuts off.

“Tell O we’re having fruit and eggs for breakfast, and if she wants anything else she should come down and tell me. I did kind of kick her ass in the gym this morning.”

Clarke tries not to do the math to tell her how many hours she slept because she can feel it in her bones how small that number is. She stumbles through showering and dressing and breakfast and by the end of it feels marginally alive, like a college kid who has gotten a second wind after a series of all nighters. They’re awake and there’s  _ energy _ but there’s just something off in the way her brain is connecting the dots. She’s almost forgotten that they’re going to a cemetery until Raven pulls up in the parking lot.

The day is cold and foggy, the air heavy with rain but not raining. There are more cars at the cemetery than Clarke expected on a Monday morning. Dotted around the expansive plot are trees looming large over monoliths and obelisks and regular headstones, and the little ones that are not much more than a slab on the ground. It feels familiar.

That should have been her first clue.

Raven doesn’t say much, but takes Clarke’s hand as she leads her through the maze of gravestones, some old and weathered, some still polished and clean. There’s a casket still waiting to be covered with gravedirt. 

She hasn’t been back to her father’s grave since they buried him. 

That thought stops Clarke in her tracks. The looming trees, tall and proud and profoundly  _ sad _ . The hodgepodge of gravestones. She knows this graveyard because she’s been here before, ten years ago. Ten years, one month… for once she doesn’t know the day. Raven squeezes her hand before her brain can do the mental calculation and supply her with an exact time period since the last time she walked this path heart pulled from her chest, flopping around in her hands, trying to remember how to beat.

“How did you know?”

Raven takes Clarke’s other hand and steps closer. There’s still distance between them. “Abby and I were talking, and it came up that I visit Finn on  _ Dia de Finados _ . She said she visits Jake on their anniversary, sometimes his birthday. We talked about how in Brazil it’s a day of remembering the dead. I hope this is okay?”

Clarke chews on the inside of her cheek.

“When Abby said where your dad was buried, and I realized it was the same cemetery as Finn, I thought maybe we could both use some remembering today, together.”

Clarke closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around Raven’s waist, laying her head on her shoulder. “I haven’t been here since we put him in the ground.”

“I know.”

“Does it help?” Clarke sniffles and straightens up just enough to look Raven in the eyes. “To talk to Finn?”

Raven shrugs. “Sometimes, maybe. I tell him all the things about my life that I’d want him to know if he were still around to hear.” She reaches up to brush at the tears on Clarke’s cheeks. Clarke kisses her palm and gives the softest of nods, just the whisper of a movement, like the wind thought about tickling a leaf.

They fall into step together, silent once more as they make their way across the cemetery. Healing together, hurting together, not letting themselves be alone. The grave they stop in front of is cleaner than Clarke expected it to be. Guilt hits her. The number of times her mother has visited in the past ten years. If she carried any kind of handkerchief she could use the rain and the damp to clean it off.

Instead she steps forward, her hand squeezing Raven’s as she tugs her back to her side.

“Dad,” Clarke’s voice cracks barely above a whisper. Her throat is so tight she isn’t sure she can get another word out. She isn’t sure she can breathe. Raven presses tight against her side. It doesn’t make the choking feeling go away, but Raven is there to catch her when the dam breaks. There are tears in her eyes and her voice is a watery mess when she finally finds the will to form sounds again. “This is Raven.”

Clarke nearly drops to her knees in the damp but catches herself and squats. She reaches out, her fingertips brushing across the stone. Her throat is swollen from the inside, tight and sore, and she has to force herself to speak.

“I think you would like her. She builds things… and she’s my girlfriend. One of them, and you remember Octavia? We finally figured that out. And our other girlfriend is Lexa. She’s a lawyer. You’d have so many daughters, you really wouldn’t know what to do.”

Clarke stands back up when Raven squeezes her hand, wrapping around her but with her head to the side so she can keep looking at the gravestone as she cries and talks about her life, about the museum and the gallery, and about all the little random things she can remember from the past ten years. Raven holds her.

Raven holds her and rubs circles on her back and lets her fall apart, but for the first time, despite the pain and tears, she feels like her father’s death might not be weighing on her quite as hard. And she wonders if this is what healing feels like.

##  _______________________________________

 

They’ve been training for almost a month, six days a week. Octavia’s been making steady progress, fewer headaches, and she’s gaining strength and endurance and last night was her first kickboxing class. Which is one of the reasons they’re taking it easy today, the other being that Raven just wants a break. She’s been working on her own recovery, trying to gain weight back, trying not to overdo it. There’s a delicate balance between being healthy and losing control.

In some ways helping Octavia has helped her stay on track.

In other ways it’s the trio, opening up to her, bringing her into their orbit. She’s healing in more ways than one. 

They’ve been stretching for the past twenty minutes, strength training stretches, and Raven’s mind has been wandering. It's not hard given that their hands have been wandering over spandex encased skin, pressing into sore muscles, wrapping around limbs. It’s been with the sole purpose of releasing tension, but they’ve done nothing but build it up between them. Not that the tension hasn’t been doing anything but building for the past few weeks. Raven’s let Octavia set the pace between them and they’ve only kissed a handful of times since that first time.

But now, with Octavia’s hands on her inner thigh, she can’t think about anything else, but trying to take their relationship to the next step. She wants to call attention to it, let Octavia know just what she’s feeling, but she’s afraid of seeing the fear in Octavia’s eyes again. It’s the fear that this won’t work out between them. Raven wishes she could give some of her certainty or need to her friend.

Octavia settles her hips down against Raven’s, then her stomach, her chest, until she’s laying on top of her, still except for the rise and fall of their combined breath. Her body and mind are fighting. She wants this. She wants Raven. She can feel it echo throughout her body, nerves yearning to eliminate the distance between them, but there, in the back of her mind is the ever present uncertainty.

She swallows it down and kisses Raven. Like every other time it lights her up and makes her want more. Everything between them is a competition of sorts, but not this. Raven is soft beneath her gently parted lips, taking only what Octavia gives her. For the first time she feels like maybe she could push through the fear riding her, because Raven is nothing but patient with her, giving her every chance to push away even when Octavia can feel the thrum of energy in her begging for more.

Octavia sits back on her heels and tugs Raven with her. She tangles her hands in dark brown hair and deepens the kiss. A swipe of her tongue and a nip of her teeth and Raven is leaning into her, hands slipping under the edge of her shirt. She freezes as her own hand, travelling down Raven’s leg, comes into contact with her brace. 

Raven glances up at Octavia seeing the uncertainty in her eyes. She drops her hands back to her sides. “We don’t have to do this now, but know that I trust you, Octavia.”

Octavia trembles, her hands rubbing up and down Raven’s sides, still underneath her tank top. She doesn’t want to stop but she’s afraid to take the next step. There’s still the voice in the back of her head that she won’t be able to handle this, even as she feels that she wants it. What if her body is ready but her mind isn’t. She’s afraid to know the answer because what if this is when she ruins everything they’ve built.

“How much?” Octavia has half a plan, and hopes she still has half an ounce of impulsive luck left.

Raven chews on her lip as a flutter of desire rushes through her. “Am I going to need a safeword?”

Octavia blushes but doesn’t drop her gaze. “Maybe not today, unless you want one.” She scoots closer on her knees until she’s pressed up against Raven again. “Is that something you’d want in the future?”

Raven grins as she slips her hands under Octavia’s shirt and rakes her nails down her sides. “I dunno, guess that depends upon if you think you can top me.”

Octavia grabs Raven’s hips and kisses her hard. Her teeth tug none to gently on Raven’s bottom lip. When she pulls away Raven’s eyes are heavy lidded and her lips are parted. 

“Fairly certain it isn’t even a question.”

“Prove it.”

Raven’s back hits the wood floor hard and her arms are pinned above her head by one of Octavia’s hands while the other pushes up underneath her shirt. She gasps at the impact and wriggles to adjust her position, Octavia halting her movements with a heavy press of her hips. She arches and slips against the floor as she struggles to escape.

There’s something exhilarating about Octavia holding her down.

She doesn’t think about all the reasons this would terrify her if it were anyone else, that’s there in the back of her mind, but all she can think is that she knows Octavia will stop no matter what, safe word or not. She’s removed from the trauma, and knows she could break free if she wanted to, but she doesn’t want to. 

Instead she feels safe.

Octavia holds Raven’s jaw between her thumb and forefinger as she kisses her. It’s a heavy press of lips, possessive and in control, except she knows no matter what she does Raven has the ultimate control. It’s free reign in an enclosed space. Her tongue swipes against Raven’s bottom lip just before she takes it between her teeth. She tugs until she hears Raven whimper.

It’s there in that moment that things start to fall into place for Octavia. In handing her control of the moment Raven gave her what she needed to push through her uncertainty. She lets herself tumble forward into the building desire between them knowing that they’ll catch each other as they fall.

She breaks contact and an audible whimper escapes Raven’s lips.

“Clothes, off.” Octavia sits back on her knees and pulls her shirt over her head and tosses it away, her sports bra quickly goes the same direction. She shifts and pulls off her socks and slips off her running shorts.

Raven watches her slack jawed. She’s seen Octavia half naked before, sports bra and impossibly small running shorts. She knows the smooth tone of her stomach, and the slight swell of her hips. Familiar is the curve of her chest, though she’s never seen it exposed. Her hands twitch on her own stomach, itching to reach out. She doesn’t though, having given Octavia control, she waits.

Instead she bites her lip, her eyes continuing to rake over all the places she wants to touch.

“That means you too.” Octavia lunges out into a plank position, hovering over Raven. “Unless you want me to do it for you?”

Raven reaches down and hooks the edge of her tanktop with her fingers, carefully bringing it up over her head, catching her bra in the same motion. “The rest is yours to unwrap.” She catches the side of her finger along the underside of Octavia’s chin and coaxes her down for a kiss.

She yields into it as Octavia trembles above her, kissing her harder, quickly working back to where they had been. Her hands run over naked flesh, palms gently cupping pert breasts. The kiss is controlled, Octavia only giving what she wants to give. As Raven begins to drag her nails down Octavia’s back, pulling her down, begging for more contact Octavia catches her hands one by one and presses them back up above her head.

Octavia shakes her head gently no, a smirk on her lips. “No touching.”

Raven frowns, but keeps her hands where they’ve been put. “As long as that rule is only for me.”

“Don’t you worry about that.”

Octavia kisses down Raven’s neck, across her, chest, lips and teeth flirting with nipples as she makes her descent. 

“On or off?” Octavia asks gently, tapping Raven’s leg.

“Your call.”

Octavia’s hands are gentle as she removes the limb she’s seen Raven manipulate a thousand times but never dared to touch herself. To her, this feels more intimate than the undressing she came down here to do.

Raven lifts her hips as Octavia removes her running shorts and underwear. She’s already throbbing and aching and wanting. It doesn’t matter that she’s been with Lexa and Clarke recently, her body feels like she hasn’t been touched, because she’s not yet been touched by Octavia. Each of her girls bringing out something different in her. Raven feels her back arch, trying to make contact. Octavia presses her hard back into the ground.

“Be good,” she admonishes, her teeth sinking down into the soft flesh of her inner thigh. She kisses the scarred flesh, and the red circle now ringing white streaks.

Raven nods rapidly and lowers her hips back to the ground.

She’s rewarded with Octavia’s mouth on her sex and her hands holding Raven down against the hardwood floor. There’s just an edge of teeth and she gasps, hips bucking. Octavia slaps her stomach.

Raven tries to quiet her movements but all she wants from her girlfriend is  _ more _ . More contact, more testing that edge of pain. She wants to turn their naturally competitive interactions on their head. She wants to give herself up to Octavia completely.

Her hands scrabble for something to grab onto, but there is nothing. The floor is smooth, and anything within reach is lightweight and unattached. She presses her hands to her face and bites the heel of her hand. 

The orgasm is already building as Octavia slides two fingers inside her, instantly curling against the spot behind her pubic bone. The pace from the onset is intense and deep. Octavia shifts bringing her thigh up behind her hand to get more leverage, more pressure. She rocks against Raven, her body trembling with effort. 

Raven pants, whimpering as she feels the orgasm twist inside her, building closer and closer to that edge.

“I want you to come for me,” Octavia growls, her lips and teeth brushing against the underside of Raven’s left breast.

She nods, words beyond her capacity. She’s riding precariously along that edge, her hips moving in time with Octavia’s and she wants nothing more than to topple over, and crash down.

“I want you to come,  _ now _ .” It’s a command that Raven doesn’t have to fight to follow because as Octavia says it she slides in a third finger and bites down on the soft flesh that her teeth had been teasing.

One hand flies to Raven’s mouth as she fails to contain a scream, the other to Octavia’s hair, wrapping tight and hard, holding her to her breast. The orgasm shudders through her, bright white oblivion behind her eyes. She smacks her head against the hard floor as muscles clench and release uncontrollably. 

As the tension recedes she tugs Octavia up, moaning as she feels fingers slip from her still spasming sex. She replaces her hand with Octavia’s mouth and kisses her sloppily. 

“I trust you,” she whispers.

Octavia kisses her softly, hands brushing hair from Raven’s face and pulling her close. She cradles Raven’s head in her hands, fingers ghosting over the tender stinging skin. “Are you okay… was that okay?”

Raven laughs lightly. “You made me come so hard I nearly knocked myself out. That was more than okay.”

“Maybe the bed next time,” Octavia suggests as she kisses Raven’s temple.

“I was thinking bed for round two.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven texts Anya at five thirty in the morning, she’s awake for no other reason than she woke up and for once she’s feeling excited about life. She’s not really expecting a response, but it’s there within seconds.

_ Raven 5:32am : _ YO. Life update needs to happen. Stat.

_ Anya 5:32am : _ bring coffee and you have me until the sun is up and/or I pass out

_ Anya 5:32am : _ so like 2 hours tops.

_ Raven 5:32am : _ who needs sleep anyway?

_ Anya 5:35am : _ make that coffee for 3, but you’ve got me to yourself. Niylah is dead to the world.

An hour later she’s knocking on Anya’s door caffeine and breakfast from one of their favorite brunch spots that happens to be open insanely late, or early depending upon your point of view. 

“Sunrise in twenty,” Anya says around a yawn. She leaves the door open and settles down in the living room.

Raven toes off her shoes and tosses her jacket on the chair by the door which she shuts by leaning against it. There’s soft music playing she can’t quite make out from the hallway but as she steps into the living room she recognizes the sound of a sitar. Anya is curled up in a throw blanket on the floor oversized pillows piled in front of the floor to ceiling windows.

“I know we can’t watch the full sunrise out here, but I didn’t want to wake Niylah so we could take our usual spot on the floor in my room.” Anya smiles apologetically and reaches out for the coffee that Raven offers her.

“We can still watch the sky change color.” She hands her tea and the breakfast to Anya before lowering herself to the ground. Raven pulls a throw across her lap and piles pillows against the window so she can face Anya as she leans back. She’s exhausted as Anya looks. Neither of them should really be awake yet, or still. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Until about three-forty-five when Niylah crawled into bed.”

“Which explains why she’s passed out,” Raven winks. “Things are good with her and Lincoln?”

Anya reaches for one of the cartons and a fork; she stabs at scrambled eggs and sauteed veggies. She brandishes the utensil in Raven’s direction as if to make a point, some witty remark, but she doesn’t. Instead a slow smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. “They are. I didn’t ever think I’d find this… hell, I didn’t think I wanted it you know.”

“So my best friend is not only my girlfriend’s sister but also dating my other two girlfriend’s exes.” Raven wrinkles her nose as she laughs to herself. “We couldn’t have been more complicated if we tried.”

“We could’ve fucked that day we met,” Anya sips at her coffee. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you called my sister your girlfriend.”

“That would have muddied the waters.” Raven reaches out and nudges Anya with a socked foot. “Especially now that I’ve slept with Lexa… and Clarke… and Octavia.”

Raven watches Anya over her cup of tea, waiting for her to respond. The sun is tinging the morning sky pink and purple on the edges as it gets closer to sunrise, soft in stark contrast with the harsh hour of the morning on a Saturday. Anya responds slowly, the simple arch of an eyebrow as she takes another bite of eggs and veggies before passing the container to Raven.

“So things are good?”

“Yeah,” Raven smiles, biting her lip as she drops her gaze. “They are.”

Anya nudges Raven with her foot.

They don’t say anything else, they don’t need to. Raven rests her head against the window and looks out at the sky watching it shift color and lighten. It’s a new day, full of possibilities. By the time Raven turns back to Anya she’s asleep, curled down into the blankets, coffee almost ready to spill still held loosely in her hand.

Raven rescues the coffee and moves everything to refrigerator. She uses the bathroom quickly and runs into Niylah, only half clothed in the hallway.

“Your girlfriend is passed out on the living room floor, might want to rescue her or else she’ll be cranky.” Raven slides past a bleary-eyed Niylah and heads toward the front door. “Thanks for letting me borrow her.”

A second late Niylah looks up to respond, “Don’t let her hear you call her that.” She winks.

Raven grins, “Something tells me she might not mind so much anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up here or on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask) with what you think.  
> Also all the [headcanon questions answered on my blog](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) and some ficlets and other things!


	29. Falling into Bed and in Love with Raven Reyes part 8 | 8 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and so now we finally reach the scene I teased back on January 24th of this year when I was testing to see if anyone had any interest in me even writing a small-ish fic about the ot4 thinking maybe I'd have a handful of people that weren't mutuals. This scene evolved a lot over the past ELEVEN months. If you want to check out the original it's [here](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/post/138001927482/femslash-and-fandoms-asked-for-strikhedonia).  
>  Thank you to everyone who's been around since the beginning and thank you to those of you that have joined along the way. We aren't done yet, but we're getting close. It's one of my favorite things to hear from you and talk with you all each week.

Raven finds herself tucked between Clarke and Octavia in a dark booth, Lexa just on the other side of Octavia. Their friends press into the rest of the booth like always. Normally the girls avoid sitting next to each other, temptations are more easily avoided when not within arm’s reach. Tonight they’re skirting the line, a fire burning between them.

“Octavia,” Raven leans over and whispers in her ear. “You realize your hand is on my thigh.” At the same moment Octavia nods she feels Clarke’s hand come to rest on the small of her back and the small patch of skin that’s exposed just above her jeans. She breathes out through her nose and focuses on her drink. They’ve been here before, like this, soft touches and reassurances, but it’s always been at home where she could respond in kind.

Each of them discretely has a hand on her, even Lexa, whose fingertips keep dancing along the back of her neck instead of drumming along the back of the booth where her arm is resting.

It’s all she can do to keep her focus out on the group and not on her girlfriends. Earlier on the dance floor they had let themselves blend into the crowd, bodies undulating together, hands groping in the dark. Her focus is shot.

They should have left after the dance floor. This is a dangerous game, because they’re a hair’s breadth away from coming out if the wrong person notices a straying hand, or Raven rolling her eyes back into her head in pleasure.

She isn’t used to the attention yet. It’s only been a month and she isn’t sure yet how her life has ended up like this; it’s completely and unexpectedly beautiful. Still, she feels unworthy, tarnished by what has happened to her, not brilliant enough to shine next to them, or why they would need her.

And yet they’re the ones pursuing her.

Lexa offers a small reassuring smile from the other side of Octavia like she can read the doubt running through Raven’s mind. She leans her head back just slightly against Lexa’s hand, letting the touch from the trio ground her. This isn’t just some alcohol lubricated impulse fueled by dance floor shenanigans. They’ve struggled for every bit of comfort they have with each other.

She doesn’t realize how tense she’s become until she feels Clarke’s fingertips on her arm, her thumb brushing gently across the back of it, and a warm puff of breath against her ear, “You should come home with us tonight.”

The hair on the back of Raven’s arms stands on end. This is what they’ve been tumbling toward, cohesion, feeling like the four of them are in one relationship. They’re falling into step with each other with a kind of synchronicity that doesn’t come easily.

Even as she relaxes her head into Lexa’s hand, rests her shoulder against Octavia’s, and her free hand finds Clarke’s thigh under the table. There’s a tender thread of hope weaving through her heart, that this is real, that it will work, that in the end, it’s her that they want. Having that hope terrifies her.

Raven’s long lost track of the conversation, lost in the sensation of warm kind hands and her thoughts heavy with loneliness. Niylah, Lincoln, and Anya slipped out while her attention was elsewhere, no doubt less subtle in keeping their relationship secret. Bellamy and Gina are sliding out of the booth and Lexa and Octavia do the same. 

Raven misses the warmth instantly.

Clarke leans into Raven, a firm press against her back. Her breath is hot on Raven’s ear, lips brushing against skin, “Look at them.” Raven’s gaze flicks up to Octavia and Lexa steadies Octavia while she puts her heels back on. Flashes of undressing them run through her head. She barely catches Octavia wink at her. “We don’t want this night to end, so are you coming?”

Raven’s throat goes dry. This is it. She starts to slide out of the booth and looks over her shoulder, “Not yet I’m not.”

Lexa holds out her hand and helps Raven slide to the edge and stand, hands falling lightly to Raven’s waist as Raven steadies herself. Assured and comfortable like they always are, Lexa seems almost calm even with the tension thrumming between them. Lexa’s hands are light on her and she wants to lean into the touch and the strength behind it. Octavia is watching her expectantly, excitedly, and Raven knows they know exactly what Clarke asked her. 

Bellamy catches her eye, if he notices Lexa’s hands still on her waist he makes no indication. Then again, as far as most everyone assumes, Lexa is the single one, it wouldn’t matter if she were trying to take Raven home.

“You need a ride, Reyes?” He asks. 

She shakes her head no, “I’m good.” She hopes he drops it and doesn’t ask, but Gina is tugging him away toward the door with a wave goodbye before he has the chance.

Clarke’s hand moves to the small of her back again, and Lexa is looking down at her with a reverence. Lexa’s eyes are wide and hopeful, as if a yes from Raven would make her happy, but at the same time she would accept any answer if it meant Raven felt content with the decision. It’s the gentle acceptance, the waiting for Raven to decide.

Raven takes a step towards Lexa, it’s been too long since she’s been wanted like this and she’s tired of making excuses to herself, letting herself believe that no one wants her for more than a night, or out of more than curiosity. Raven can feel they’re in this for her and nothing more. Fuck reservations. “Take me home.” Her heart speeds up as Lexa smiles. 

The retreat from the bar is all a blur of Clarke and Lexa trading touches with her and each other in the dark corners. Octavia has run off ahead to retrieve their jackets after squeezing Raven’s hand. She can feel the excitement bubbling through the four of them, anticipation like small children promised an ice cream after dinner.

This is so much better than that.

“Ready?” Octavia’s voice catches in her throat, a low breathy whisper as she stops them just before the exterior doors.

Raven nods, barely trusting her own voice, need winds around her. When no one moves she manages an exhale of, “Yes,” and leans forward wanting to start this now, her gaze flicking to Octavia’s lips. She’s burning up with energy. Octavia’s hand presses against her chest, Lexa’s hand on her waist, Clarke’s hand on her arm.

“Not yet, not here,” Lexa whispers into her hair. Raven feels a soft press of lips and she nods. She can’t let herself get carried up and away with them. Not until they’re safely at home.

Lexa wastes no time pulling them out into the cold night air, hailing a cab before anyone’s had a chance to comment on the weather, and they’re tumbling into the back seat, the four of them pressed together, and Raven doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the three sets of hands that reach for her, but she’s never felt more certain of a decision before.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa pauses, her hands hovering on the hem of Raven’s jeans as she kneels between her legs. Clarke is distracting Raven with a kiss, cradling her from behind, so she watches, enjoying the view. Raven is with them now, all of them, and that means they can find out how she fits into them when they are four. She glances to Octavia for a moment to find herself being watched.

Octavia grins and leans forward, lips just barely brushing Lexa’s as she asks, “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely.” She kisses Octavia with intent, half of her wishing they’d skipped the preamble of taking things slow and getting water because they were all on the same page when they tumbled into the back of that cab. Her fingertips press into the crease of Raven’s thighs and Octavia kisses her back.

The four of them are buzzing and tumbling together, fumbling and rearranging as they find a rhythm. Four is so very different than three or two. There’s a point where lovemaking tips the scales into technically an orgy. It doesn’t help that Octavia’s moans rival a porn stars some nights.

Octavia turns her attention back to Raven and Clarke.

Running her hands down Raven’s inner thighs, Lexa works to get her attention. She succeeds, just not in a useful way. Raven presses her hips up against Lexa’s hands, searching for more contact, specifically searching for contact in just the right spot. Lexa almost gives in, almost presses the palm of her hand flat between Raven’s widespread legs.

Lexa lets out a breath that is little more than a whimper of air.

They stumbled into the house from the taxi, coats and shoes in a trail from the front door to the couch where they’ve landed. There are four neglected glasses of water on the coffee table. And somehow they’re all still clothed, though Raven’s hand has worked up under Octavia’s bra.

“Raven,” Lexa says her name like a soft command, tugging lightly on her belt loops.

Clarke nips at Raven’s neck and turns to look down at Lexa then back at Raven who is wrapped up in Octavia. She leans forward, hooking Raven’s leg over hers as she runs her hand along her inner thigh before catching Lexa up in a kiss. There’s no preamble, just Clarke’s tongue demanding entrance to Lexa’s mouth. 

Lexa catches a handful of Clarke’s hair, pulls her back, and holds her in place. “Upstairs.”

Clarke nods, slack jawed and wide eyed. She reaches out a hand blindly, fingers twisting around Raven’s shirt and tugs. When she doesn’t feel Raven move she twists so she can rake her nails along Raven’s stomach without breaking eye contact with Lexa.

Octavia whines as Raven pulls away. Raven’s eyes are heavy lidded and dark with desire, lips swollen from kisses. Lexa nearly lunges up to steal one of her own. Raven hums a questioning sound, not quite able to form words. Instead she leans forward, kissing and nipping at Clarke’s shoulder as she looks to Lexa.

Lexa who is between her legs looking up at her expectantly. It’s an aching twist of desire that’s only fuelled by Octavia sliding behind her, hands seeming to be everywhere at once.

“Bed.” Clarke breathes out.

The four of them tumble to standing, no one wanting to break contact as they do. Instead of moving quickly they trip each other up but excuse it with laughter and kisses and groping.

Lexa pulls Clarke with her as she stands, wrapping around her, kissing her. She slaps Clarke’s ass and moves to pull away, start leading them upstairs, but Clarke pulls her back.

“Don’t start something you’re not going to finish right,” Clarke nearly growls. 

Lexa runs her hands up underneath Clarke’s shirt and rakes her nails down her back. Clarke whimpers against Lexa’s neck and squirms into her, panting and foggy with desire.

Raven presses up against Clarke’s back, she kisses along her neck as she looks up at Lexa. “Something tells me this one really enjoys being told what to do.” Raven catches Clarke’s hair at the nape of her neck and feels Clarke nod into her hand. Lexa grins.

Octavia fits herself in behind Raven, hands seeming to simultaneously run both up under her shirt and down under her waistband. “Not quite as much as you do. Though she isn’t quite as feisty.” Octavia bites down on Raven’s neck and is rewarded with a shiver and whimper of pleasure. 

They’re nearly to the bed when there’s a subtle shift. Lexa, Octavia, and Clarke turning their attention to Raven.

Raven sits on the edge of the bed to take off her jeans but Clarke is there, her hands over Raven’s asking if she can take them off. She leans back against Octavia and lifts her hips as Clarke slides them off. Then Octavia’s whispering in her ear if she can take off her top, and she isn’t quite sure how Octavia manages her shirt and bra in the same smooth motion but she does. Lexa nips at the inside of her knee and asks if she wants her prosthetic on or off.

It’s almost too much, the attention from the three of them all at once, seeing her, wanting her, asking if it’s okay. Her heart swells with hope and love and she tries to remind herself that this isn’t really any different than any other day with them, that this is just sex, and she’s had sex with all of them. She tries to tell herself that this is less important than waking up in bed with them, or having them to reach out to after a long day.

But Lexa is looking up at her like this really means something and Octavia is touching her gently as if she’s precious and Clarke is kissing her softly like she’s oxygen and the four of them are burning up.

She nods once at Lexa. This is somehow more, it’s them reaffirming, saying again to themselves that they are four, that this is how they are and who they are and there’s no need to shy away from it.

With three sets of hands on her, and three mouths, Raven finds herself cradled in the middle of the bed. She closes her eyes and just lets herself feel. Her skin tingles, electric shocks of pleasure from warm mouths, and there are fingers exploring between her legs, gently tracing the part of her sex. And she knows she’s already wet, wriggling beneath the touch, begging for more even as someone kisses her to distraction.

Lexa slips at first, one, then two, fingers inside her, and Raven is arching her hips, moaning, body asking for a faster rhythm because she’s already close. As much as she wants there’s no drawing this out, not with Octavia whispering in her ear how much she wants Raven to come, or with Clarke’s skilled hands seeking out all the places that make her come undone.

She hides her face in the warm place between Octavia and Clarke as she comes, her back arching off the bed, her body shuddering, muscles jumping with each moment of pleasure as it rolls through her. 

Every touch sends pleasure coursing through her. She nearly taps out, but Lexa is gently lapping at her sex and Octavia is tracing infuriating patterns along her skin while whispering in her ear and kissing her neck. And Clarke… Raven’s hands find Clarke, naked and half on top of her, kissing her like all she wants is Raven to feel good.

Raven can already feel the second orgasm building, and she knows it’s going to hit hard, and fast. Still, she reaches between Clarke’s legs and finds what she’s seeking on the first try. Their kiss falters as Clarke moans and Raven feels the second orgasm hit.

Lexa presses gentle kisses up Raven’s body, enjoying how each touch makes Raven shudder and her heart leap.

Octavia pulls her attention though, heavy kisses, biting down on Lexa’s bottom lip almost enough to bruise. 

Bodies shift. Clarke fully on top of Raven, Octavia pressing Lexa down into the bed. 

Octavia and Lexa come together like a slow motion fight, pulling and pushing and holding each other down. Their mouths are weapons, doling out as much pleasure as pain until Lexa yields. They almost miss the conversation happening next to them.

“I want you to take me with a strap-on,” Clarke pants, her forehead resting against Raven’s.

Raven’s still three fingers deep in Clarke, slowly caressing her from the inside.

“You can use one of ours, if- ah!” Clarke cries out, trying to hold on control before she tips over that edge.

“You could let go you know, come for me, then let me make you come again while you ride me.”

Clarke’s eyes snap shut as she trembles above Raven, her breathing uneven.

Raven glances to Lexa and Octavia, almost asking if it’s okay. The green of Lexa’s eyes is lost to desire, and Octavia is grinning. 

Octavia slips off the bed to retrieve their box of fun, as she likes to call it. 

Lexa slides up next to Raven and Clarke, running her hand across Clarke’s back. She looks down to Raven, “Can I?”

Raven nods. Lexa kisses her then bites Clarke’s shoulder. “I always finish what I start,” she whispers.

Clarke rests her head against against Raven’s shoulder, and raises her ass slightly, even as each of Raven’s strokes brings her closer to orgasm. Her body is trembling, but she wants what Lexa has promised her. The thought of it is almost enough to push her over that edge, but the flat of Lexa’s palm rubs gently across her ass. She whimpers, begging. Her breath more soft moans than breathing, short shallow gasps of need. Then Lexa’s hand is no longer on her, and she knows it’s coming but she doesn’t know when, Lexa never waits the same amount of time, it’s never when she expects it. 

Lexa’s hand smacks hard across Clarke’s ass and she cries out. The sting of it sending shocks through her, hitting her center just as Raven presses her fingers in deep. And she’s coming hard, collapsing against Raven. Clarke barely registers that she’s bitten down on Raven’s shoulder to muffle her scream until the white blaze behind her eyelids recedes and she’s left laying panting and limp sliding off to Raven’s side.

Raven has a hand in Clarke’s hair, Lexa has a hand on her side.

“You okay?” Lexa whispers and leans across Raven to kiss Clarke’s forehead.

Clarke bites her bottom lip and smiles happily nodding and snuggling down for just a moment.

“So this one is Clarke’s favorite,” Octavia kneels next to the three of them a harness in one hand and a large purple dildo in the other. “And you probably won’t need lube after that, something tells me my girl is plenty wet.” Octavia winks and leans over to kiss Clarke who is still blissed out.

“Yeah, I figured out that second part.” Raven pulls up her hand, still coated in Clarke’s orgasm. There’s a sly grin on her lips as she pops one of the digits into her mouth.

She offers up the hand to Octavia who takes it happily, dropping the toys in her excitement to clean off Raven’s hand and taste Clarke. Lexa doesn’t waste time pulling Octavia in for a kiss.

“If you’re not wanting to, one of us can always use it,” Lexa gestures to the purple dildo, even as her hands and attention are on Octavia.

Raven shakes her head, “I’m good, as long as you are?” She nudges a still cuddly Clarke pressed into her side.

Octavia pulls herself back from Lexa’s kisses. “You help her get ready, and I’ll get Clarke ready.”

A few minutes later and Lexa is stroking the dildo as she kisses Raven, rubbing it up against Raven’s clit, when Clarke taps in.

“Which one of us should be on top… because of… ah…” Clarke’s hand trails down Raven’s side but stops at her hip.

For once attention being called to her leg doesn’t phase her. It doesn’t make her feel uncertain. Clarke’s caring has nothing to do with being uncomfortable and everything to do with wanting to make sure that Raven is. She pulls the blonde flush against her, the oversized purple dildo pressed between them. Clarke gasps and grabs Raven’s hips.

“Where do you want to be?”

Clarke catches her bottom lip between her teeth and gently pushes at Raven’s shoulder, indicating she should lay down. She straddles her, the strap on teasing at her entrance, but she leans over and kisses Raven gently. “Is this okay?”

Raven nods and swallows thickly, knowing that they’re being watched. She catches the sight of Octavia wrapped around Lexa from behind, legs spread wide, one hand between Lexa’s legs, the other on her breast, her lips never leaving Lexa’s neck except to whisper in her ear.

There’s something in being watched, knowing that this is as much for her and Clarke’s pleasure as it is for Octavia and Lexa’s. Clarke seems to realize it too as she slides down onto the dildo slowly, nearly taking it to the hilt, up and down and up and down again until she’s grown accustomed to the girth and the length.

Raven holds Clarke’s hips still for a moment and thrusts into her. Clarke arches her back, twisting slightly so she can hold herself up with one hand. They fall into a rhythm, deep and slow that has Clarke wanton and moaning.

Lexa leans into Octavia where they’re settled against the headboard. She’s been close to the edge all night and with Octavia’s fingers on her sex it’s all she can do to not let go, but she wants to watch Raven and Clarke, so she keeps her eyes open even as she writhes in Octavia’s arms.

“You’re gonna come before she does, Lex,” Octavia whispers.

“She’s already come once,” Lexa fires back.

“I know,” she nips at Lexa’s ear. “Just look how wet that made you.” She holds up her fingers in front of Lexa’s face so she can’t miss the glistening juices, just for a moment, before she sucks them into her own mouth. “I love how you taste, you know that.”

Lexa whimpers and grabs Octavia’s hand to put it back between her legs.

“Someone’s needy tonight.”

“Fuck me, Octavia, please.” Lexa hates to beg, but she does.

Octavia slides two fingers into Lexa slowly. “Listen to Clarke, she’s about to come.”

Lexa looks over to where Clarke’s gentle fucking has become erratic, her back arched, her breath no more than moans and curses.

“I want you to come when she does.” Octavia flicks her thumb across Lexa’s clit.

It doesn’t take long but Clarke cries out, and collapses on top of Raven for the second time that night. Her soft gentle gasps send Lexa over the edge and Octavia presses up on the spot that sends her over the edge.

Everything for a moment is heavy breathing and heavier bodies. And then they shift, coming together again, someone else’s turn, Octavia lasting longer than she expects before the world bursts into stars around her and she can’t move her legs or really remember what words are.

Lexa fetches a few damp hand clothes and a towel. They’re a sweaty, sticky mess, and all far too tired to actually clean up. Clarke grabs chapstick and passes it around. Octavia manages to get up just enough to hit the lights. And they’re tumbling together, limbs tangled, breath evening out as they hold onto each other, each hoping that this is the first of many nights together in this bed.

##  _______________________________________

 

Soft light filters in through the gauzy curtains of the bedroom window. It must be early afternoon already, the sun finally lighting up the sky behind the clouds to a soft bright grey still threatening to storm. The quartet is tangled up in the bedsheets and each other. Octavia is half lost underneath the blankets, wrapped around Clarke’s side, her arm reaching across the bodies in the bed so her fingertips just brush against Raven’s hip. Clarke is pressed close to Raven, one arm around Raven’s waist, the other stretched out beneath the pillow she and Lexa are attempting to share. Raven is half wrapped around Lexa, their legs tangled together as her face presses into Lexa’s side.

Lexa is the first to wake. She breathes in a hint of cinnamon from the soft brown hair her face is buried in and the night before comes back to her in flashes. She smiles and stretches as little as possible as her body awakens needing to move and work out the kinks from sleep. There’s no way she can move without disturbing at least Raven so she tries to find a comfortable position as she is despite her hand half asleep trapped between Raven and Clarke.

Slowly she opens her eyes to see Clarke and Octavia curled up close. She has a row of sleeping girlfriends spooning and she could freeze frame this moment, and hopes for thousands more like it. This feels complete in a different way than it was before. They still have so far to go but this is the start of something wonderful for them. She knows that they would have been wonderful just the three of them, but with Raven it is different, their balance is steadying out.

She doesn’t want to know any future that doesn’t have the four of them together.

Lexa trails her fingertips over soft skin, Raven’s shoulder, Clarke’s cheek, the back of Octavia’s hand. Her stomach rumbles and there’s a slight throbbing in her head. Food and water. Are both something that she needs, but she’s loathe to disturb the others.

Clarke stirs next, whimpering against the light and being awake, as she tries to snuggle back down between Octavia and Raven before she wakes up. Lexa watches the small frown on her lips translate into a crease between her eyebrows as Clarke resigns herself to having woken up. She brushes her thumb over the tensed muscles and smiles softly as Clarke opens her eyes slowly.

Her first few words are mumbled, “-time?” Clarke asks thickly.

Lexa shrugs, “Not sure, I can’t move to reach anything.”

Clarke has no such qualms as she stretches up and over Octavia to reach for her phone on top of the headboard. Octavia grumbles and wraps around Clarke trying to hold her still. Raven groans as she wakes up only to mumble something about it being too early. She sets her teeth against the delicate skin of Lexa’s side.

“No getting up yet,” Raven mumbles as she shakes her head and tries to hide her eyes from the light against Lexa.

“One forty three,” Clarke announces as she collapses back onto the bed.

“Did anyone think to bring up water last night?” Octavia half crawls over Clarke and lays out across her and Raven as she pokes Lexa in the arm. She kisses the top of Raven’s head and whispers morning.

“Why exactly do you think it’s my responsibility to get us all water when we go out drinking?”

“Because you’re the smart one,” Clarke half mumbles into her pillow.

Lexa rolls her eyes and snuggles down until she’s level with Raven. “We need food.”

“It’s your house.”

Lexa kisses Raven’s nose, “Yes, but you’re our guest, what do you want?”

“Waffles with chocolate chips… and bacon. Not in the waffles… just on the side. Though bacon in waffles could be good.” Raven yawns.

Octavia continues to stretch out across the other three until she’s practically behind Lexa and curls up around her. “I thought we were on an eating plan for our training.”

“Yup,” Raven nods. “It accounts for bacon and waffles.” 

“Guess that’s our cue then, time to unleash the bacon.” Octavia wraps her arms around Lexa and starts to roll toward the edge of the bed. Lexa groans but lets herself be moved to the edge of the bed.

Raven turns over and burrows against Clarke with a sleepy, “You can’t cook, stay here.”

She presses a kiss to Clarke’s chest and feels arms wrap around her in return along with a grumbled  _ I’m not that bad _ .

“Sweetheart, darling, wonderful talented girlfriend of mine,” Lexa starts. “You frequently burn the toast, and once burnt pasta.”

“Let’s not forget the frozen pizza disaster.”

“That was four years ago, O.”

Lexa is tugging Octavia toward the shower as she calls back, “And I bet there’s still pizza stuck to that oven!”

Raven cuddles against Clarke and lets out a long breath. She isn’t fully awake yet and her brain is already trying to process what waking up in bed with all four of them will mean. So far everything seems normal, as if it’s the most natural thing for her to be there between them.

Clarke’s fingertips trail along her spine. For the first time since she woke she thinks about how they’re all still naked. The way no one has held back or changed the way they touch her now that it’s light, how Clarke seems content to just snuggle because she asked her to, kissing the top of her head, touching her just because she can. Raven has to go too far back in her memory to remember the last time she was with anyone who would stay with her like this.

They’re still entangled in bed when Lexa and Octavia tumble out of the master bathroom giggling and half dressed. Lexa smiles softly as she heads for the walk in closet to finish dressing, and Octavia grins wildly as she bounds over to the bed, bouncing to land on top of Clarke and Raven. They groan with the impact.

“It’s breakfast time, up! Up!” Octavia exclaims as she bounces just as quickly off the bed.

“Someone’s had their morning orgasm.” Clarke mumbles as she presses up onto her forearms, stretching her back.

Raven raises an eyebrow and waits for Clarke to explain.

“She’s only that chipper first thing after she wakes up if one of us gets her off. Without fail.” Clarke shrugs. Raven laughs. Clarke bites her bottom lip then leans over Raven. “You know a morning orgasm doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Is that so?”

Clarke nods emphatically and leans down to kiss Raven. “What do you say, shower with me?”

Raven arches up to kiss Clarke, smiling too big for the kiss to be more than a press of lips, but it wraps around them all the same. New beginnings.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven hovers uncertainly halfway between the couch and the dining table next to the piano. She isn’t certain if she should move into the kitchen to help out or not. Any other day she would never have hesitated. It’s different this morning though. The first morning after a night with all four of them. She aches in ways she didn’t know she could, and only some of them have to do with sex.

This feels real now and that terrifies her.

Now that she’s clean and they’ve all left the soft warmth of bed she doesn’t know how to stop the feelings running rampant inside her.

It isn’t real because she had sex with them all, but because of what came after. The way they curled up together afterwards, limbs crossing over bodies, hands tugging each other closer, hair in everyone’s face, both too hot and too cold all at once. It was a post-sex cuddle as only the four of them could be. Raven with her head on Clarke’s chest, her leg hooked over Lexa’s, her hand resting on Octavia’s inner thigh.

It’s real because of how they woke up, still touching, warm and safe. It’s new and terrifying if she’s honest. Sure these past few weeks have changed their relationships in ways that it can never change back. And she doesn’t think she wants them to, even as she still doubts her place here.

Octavia pokes her head out of the kitchen and crooks her finger at Raven, beckoning her over. There’s a smirk on her lips, a quiet knowing smile that lights up her eyes. When Raven doesn’t move, too transfixed by Octavia in sleep clothes with messy hair, Octavia moves toward her.

It’s a slow sort of swaying walk fraught with the purpose of capturing Raven’s attention. It works; she’s still trying to stare at Octavia’s hips as her girlfriend’s arms wrap around her.

Octavia pecks her on the lips, “How come you’re out here?” She runs her hands up Raven’s sides. “We’re almost ready to eat.” She kisses along Raven’s neck, suggesting that eating might have very little to do with food.

Raven tips her head to the side and she snuggles closer to her girlfriend. It feels more real now, that thought, the idea that Octavia and Lexa and Clarke are her girlfriends. 

“Well, I am hungry.”

“Wait, hungry or  _ hungry _ ?” Octavia removes herself from Raven’s neck where there’s just the beginnings of a red mark.

Raven shoves Octavia playfully toward the kitchen. “Food, O. I want food.” She wraps her arms around Octavia and they shuffle into the kitchen. Clarke is plating waffles as Lexa juggles managing the stove and the waffle iron. It’s domestic bliss at its finest.

Lexa’s in running shorts, her long legs exposed, and a loose t-shirt. Clarke is in a tank top and underwear. Octavia, surprisingly, is the most clothed in sweatpants and a tank top. Even Raven is only in short shorts and a shirt. It’s comfortable.

“There you are,” Lexa smiles and steps away from the stove to kiss Raven quickly before turning back to breakfast.

“Can I help?” Raven asks even though she doesn’t move to extract herself from Octavia.

Clarke shakes her head as she carries plates toward the table, she kisses Raven on the way past. “You can come sit down and have breakfast.”

Octavia shifts in her arms and kisses her cheek and pats her hip, “Go settle in.”

Breakfast is as soft as the light filtering through the clouds outside. The comfort of it wrapping around Raven, as if maybe this is where she belongs. Laughter dissolves into soft touches and syrupy kisses. It’s clear that they’re acting no different to her than they do to each other as if she’s been here a thousand other mornings.

In some ways she has, but never like this, not with their hearts beating in tandem. Not when the four of them feel like home.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s the week before Thanksgiving and Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia find themselves wandering around Ikea trying to find a suitable replacement for their kitchen table. There isn’t enough room at theirs for everyone. Somehow the number of people they consider family keeps growing, the number of people that make their house feel like a home nearly equal. It isn’t just the three of them that live there, and Raven. It’s the blood ties, and the promises, and all the people that make them feel like this life is worth it. All the people that are their home.

They need a bigger table than the rickety old thing rescued from Clarke and Octavia’s tiny apartment that has seen better days. It’s probably one good fuck away from collapsing. Lexa isn’t taking the chance given that this will be their first time hosting Thanksgiving.

They decided to go to Ikea though, which means wandering around the entire store until they’ve picked up more things than they planned to buy, which is how they find themselves looking at bathroom decorations and storage.

Clarke picks up a toothbrush holder. It’s simple, just a little silver thing with four slots. Theirs at home is starting to fall apart, and was only ever really meant to hold two brushes, and now with four of them sharing the upstairs bathroom sometimes.

“We should get this.” Clarke waves the toothbrush holder at Lexa and Octavia for them to look it over.

“We do need a new one.” Lexa concedes as she reaches out her hand to put it in the basket.

“And we should see if Raven wants to move in.”

Lexa nearly drops the toothbrush holder.

Clarke continues as if she doesn’t notice, “She’s over at our place more than not, and her lease is ending in a few months.”

“She got the notice the other week,” Octavia affirms.

Lexa’s heart pounds, the last thing she was expecting was a suggestion like this. It was a rough start just agreeing to the idea of trying to date Raven and now Clarke and Octavia are discussing her moving in like it’s nothing.

“Maybe we should wait until we get home to talk about this?” Lexa chews on the inside of her lip.

Octavia looks around, “No one here knows us, Lexa.”

“I just mean, are we really ready for there to be four toothbrushes in the bathroom?” Lexa leads them out of the bathroom area and towards the tables. She doesn’t put the toothbrush holder back.

Clarke can’t keep the amusement out of her voice over Lexa talking in code, “That fourth toothbrush is almost always there.”

“Having the fourth toothbrush around would save time.” Octavia nudges Lexa’s hip with her own and then steps back away despite wanting to stay close to her girfriend. “No more driving in and out of downtown just to pick up things.”

“No need for extra toothpaste, or worrying about where that toothbrush is going to be.” Clarke reaches out and squeezes Lexa’s hand briefly. “I thought you would be excited about the prospect.”

“I am… there are advantages to having four toothbrushes in the bathroom on a permanent basis, as well as space for all of them.” Lexa rolls her eyes at how ridiculous this conversation sounds. “I just wasn’t expecting both of you to be quite so pro new toothbrush holder quite so soon.”

Octavia and Clarke burst out laughing, startling a family nearby. By the time they rein it in there are tears in their eyes. Lexa is laughing silently to herself.

“Definitely pro new toothbrush holder,” Octavia bites her lip and breathes in slowly as she meets Lexa’s gaze. She feels like she’s come a long way in the short time since Lexa came to them asking to open up their relationship and knows she wouldn’t want to go back to how things were.

“So which one of us should bring up the toothbrush situation with Raven?” Clarke manages to get out with a straight face.

Lexa’s phone buzzes and she pulls it out of her pocket. “Speaking of toothbrushes…” she mutters as she answers the call. “Hey, everything alright?”

Clarke and Octavia exchange a look and wait for an indication of what Raven might be calling about. Like the rest of them she usually texts.

Lexa tips the mouthpiece of the phone away from her mouth. “Apparently, Raven is talking toothbrushes first, her apartment flooded.” Lexa laughs at something Raven says. “I promise I’ll explain the toothbrush situation tonight. Let us get out of IKEA and then we’ll be over to help you get your things sorted and some of them over to our place. Give Lincoln a call? We could probably use his truck, depending upon how much you want to bring over… yeah. Sounds good…. and, hey, it’s going to be okay.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven hadn’t thought about the stairs.

Or that moving even a third of her things would be so exhausting.

Clarke and Octavia are already upstairs, but Lexa’s curled up on the couch with a book. Raven is half tempted to walk back over and curl up with her but she’s more tired than that, she wants to wash her face and fall into bed, not that she’s decided which bed she’ll sleep in yet. Everyone was adamant that she could sleep in the guest room if she wanted or if she didn’t feel ready to curl up in bed with all of them.

Of course that decision didn’t matter at all until she can get herself upstairs.

Most days stairs aren’t a problem but her back is sore and her leg and she’s just tired the kind of tired that even if she still had both her legs she’d consider sacking out on the couch just to avoid walking up the stairs. She turns and falls heavily onto the stairs, resting her head in her hands.

Her exhaustion is making it hard to keep her feelings straight and she can feel worry and panic. It twists her thoughts and makes her question her place in this house and this relationship. 

She's sitting at the bottom of a staircase she can't get herself to climb, one, that if this relationship works, she will face every night. Neither bathroom is equipped to be handicap accessible even though she knows the girls had talked about converting them even before they talked about dating her. She would give up her autonomy if she were to move in. 

Raven wonders if that would be the worst thing. 

She rubs at her eyes, trying to stave off the tears. Her appartement is a disaster zone and she feels adrift knowing she can't go home. It doesn't matter if this house is intimately familiar, it isn't home. She sniffles and rubs at her nose as she screws down her feelings, steeling her resolve and mentally preparing to make her way up the stairs. 

Raven jumps as hands settle lightly on her thighs. She opens her eyes to see Lexa knelt in front of her, quietly watching her with a hint of worry. 

“You alright?” 

Raven nods and offers up a weak smile that doesn't fool either of them, “Just tired.”

“It is long past time for bed.” Lexa teases softly. 

Raven doesn't respond, just runs her hands along Lexa's arms, hands wrapping around her elbows. The exhaustion hits her then with Lexa smiling at her gently, warm underneath her hands. It hits so hard she can feel it press tears into the corner of her eyes.

“Definitely time for sleep,” Lexa murmurs as she kisses Raven’s cheek.

Lexa moves to stand but Raven pulls her back down, placing her hands on Raven’s prosthetic. She leans forward, kissing Raven softly as her fingertips search for the release button. She kisses the corner of Raven’s mouth, then the other, then the tip of her nose. That at least earns her a smile.

Lexa is certain that Raven’s smiles could keep her warm in the depths of winter.

She slips the leg off and gently removes the sock, hands instantly moving back so she can massage the limb. She can feel the tension beneath her fingertips, the ghosts of the day clinging to her. She tries to put some of them to rest, gentle firm hands and more kisses, whispers that the lotion is all upstairs. Nothing more than them working through this moment, soft, sad and edged with contentedness.

Lexa wraps her arms around Raven’s waist and makes to tug her closer, almost into her lap as she crouches in front of her.

“Wrap your arms and legs around me.”

Raven raises an eyebrow but complies.

With a small exhalation Lexa stands with Raven wrapped around her, securely in her arms. She steadies them with the edge of her arm against the wall. Raven rests her head against Lexa’s shoulder. They breathe together for a moment and Lexa starts a slow ascent. 

She may not be here forever yet, but she’s here. Lexa presses her nose into Raven’s hair and breathes her in. Her heart flutters with it. The precious soul in her arms that has allowed them to love her, that has opened up her heart so carefully in spite of the pain she’s been through.

All of them are like that. Learning how to love and to trust, how to be patient and kind with themselves while they grow. Coming together to create a system of support, equal partners in the relationship. When one of them is down the other’s help carry her along. They won’t face anything alone.

Clarke and Octavia are half asleep curled up together in the middle of the bed, Octavia half underneath, half on top of both Clarke and the covers. They’re a tangled mess of limbs and blankets. Clarke tugs at the comforter as Lexa shuts the door with her back.

She moves slowly despite Raven murmuring that she can put her down already, but Lexa isn’t ready to let go, not until she can lay Raven next to Clarke and slide into bed on the other side. They nestle down together, the four of them curled up, sleepy and quiet and mostly asleep already by the time Octavia slips out of bed to turn off the lights they forgot to hit on their way into bed.

Four bodies twining together where there used to be three. Four hearts falling into rhythm with each other, chests rising and falling. Four lives distinct but inseparable. Four loves just trying to find what home is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's [a plethora of headcanons over on my tumblr.](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/andfourmakeshome) I'll be updating the masterlist this weekend. and the ask box is always open!


	30. Can’t Keep Our Hands to Ourselves | present day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back in the present day!

Octavia squares her shoulders and looks up into Wick’s face. He’s been out of jail for a couple months now, good behavior or something like that from the rumours she heard. When he didn’t head straight back to Raven she thought maybe they had scared him off with the restraining order. Apparently nearly a year in jail didn’t make him wary of violating the law. Part of her was nearly gleeful she was here for this.

Getting to arrest him after everything he’s done to Raven fills her with a morbid sense of accomplishment. She can take care of this, because this is something within her power to solve, and Raven had given her the permission to do whatever she needed with one nod of her head.

“I need you to step outside,” she slips into her cop voice, gone is the sweet false pleasantness she had earlier. Her voice is lower like this, it makes the hair stand up on the arms of full grown men. 

Octavia takes a step forward and tilts her head to keep her eyes locked with Wick’s. He’s as tall as her brother and has that same gleam of indignant righteousness in his eyes. She narrows her gaze and offers out the flat of her palm to guide him to the doors not five feet away.

“I’m not going anywhere until I talk to Raven.” He moves to make his way past her but she stops him with a hand flat against his chest, shoving him gently back toward the door. 

She almost wants him to fight but she keeps herself in check not wanting to be the reason it all goes south. The impulse is still there; she wants to see Wick pay for hurting her girlfriend.

“You think you’re going to stop me?” Wick looks down at her, sneering. She knows that look, men look at her like that when they think they can walk all over her, when they think they already have her beaten.

Octavia widens her stance, and in heels and tiny dress shorts it feels somehow more intimidating than normal. There is no way she’s letting Wick go after Raven. “Seems like I already did. Now you’ll want to be turning around and leaving before we arrest you.” She tilts her head to indicate Lincoln beside her.

“What some stupid fucking citizen’s arrest, like that will do any good.”

“Like actual arrest.” Lincoln steps forward, but Wick ignores him instead taking a step further into Octavia’s space, making her truly crane her neck to hold his gaze. He’s almost close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. Almost. It takes all her willpower not to shove him backwards. “Step back.” Her voice is louder, and they’re starting to attract attention.

“I think little girls need to learn their place and-”

“Hey!,” Clarke steps up to Octavia’s side and interjects brightly. The champagne has gone to her head.

Wick takes a step back, thrown by the bright eyed blonde.

Clarke slips an arm around Octavia’s waist as she looks up at Wick, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.” She smiles sweetly up at him with every ounce of willpower she has. “I’m Clarke Griffin, this is my gallery and you need to leave.”

His smile falters for a moment. He looks between Octavia and Clarke and then to Lincoln as if he’s only seeing them now for the first time. Wick reaches out his hand toward Clarke, and there’s almost something genuine and warm about the way he looks at her. “I’m Wick, I’m a friend of Raven’s.”

Clarke lets her smile fall away and she glares up at him. “I know, which is why you need to leave. You’re interrupting my art show and you’ve upset my girlfriend.”

Wick looks to Octavia, the thin veil of charm he had thrown up for Clarke falling away, “I thought Raven said she was with  _ you _ .”

“She is,” Octavia beams.

“She’s also with me,” Clarke places her free hand on her hip. “And our other girlfriend.”

“What kind of fucking cult did you drag her into?” Wick’s voice gets louder with each word. “You’ve brainwashed her, that’s why she filed for the restraining order. Raven would never have done that on her own.”

Lincoln steps in front of Wick and Wick crashes into him as he steps forward. He doesn’t have his cuffs but he looks about ready to slam Wick into the ground. “We’re done here. You’re under arrest for violating the restraining order against you.”

“You can’t arrest me.” Wick shoves Lincoln and turns to storm off out the front doors.

“Really? Because he already did once before.” Clarke can feel the champagne sloshing around in her veins. She feels downright indignant, angry on behalf of Raven, and afraid of what may happen. The last thing she wanted tonight was to make a scene, she came over here to stop one from being made, but now that she’s face to face with the creep who tore Raven down she doesn’t care. She just wants him gone.

“You’re the one that tried to brainwash Raven.” Clarke presses forward, gesturing wilding, only barely keeping herself from shoving him backwards with each word. “She told us how you would threaten her, how you would demoralize her, make her feel like she was less than enough, less than a person.  _ You _ , are the sick, twisted one.”

“That’s bullshit, Raven would never  _ willingly _ , be with someone like you.” Wick spits the words. “Get out of my way.”

Lincoln and Octavia move as one having seen the backup outside the glass windows of the gallery front. Lincoln must have had Niylah go to put in a call for backup. There’s no way he had time to do it. Lincoln grabs for Wick and Octavia moves to open the door.

“Raven!” Wick yells, even though she’s long since disappeared. He shoves at Lincoln. And that’s just about the last mistake he needs to make. Lincoln grabs for his arms; Wick tries to hit him. Octavia pulls Wick backwards by the collar and twists to throw him halfway through the open doors and onto the concrete of the sidewalk. She doesn’t quite get her hand free of his shirt and goes down with him, her knee landing in the middle of his back. It’s a scramble for his hands as he tries to push up and knock Octavia off of him, but Lincoln is there and two on duty cops and before it’s really begun it’s over.

Octavia stands, but only for a moment before stumbling, her skin white hot with pain. She looks down to see blood running down her leg. Sighing, she kicks off her heels so they don’t get blood and takes a step back from the commotion. Wick’s face is scraped worse than her knee and he’s moving like each step pains him. All she can think is that she’s thankful they were here and they could get him away so quickly.

Before she has a chance to do anything Clarke is at her side, a first aid kit in one hand, her other hand wrapped around Octavia’s elbow as she steers her toward the nearest squad car to sit down.

“Are you okay?” The tremble in Clarke’s voice belays the calm manner she speaks in. “You didn’t hit your head did you?”

“I’m okay, Clarke.” Octavia smiles down at her girlfriend and leans over to kiss her forehead. “It’s just a bit of blood.”

Clarke nods and Octavia feels the tension woosh out of her. It had all happened too fast for Clarke to see what went down, especially with Lincoln right there and the other cops already swooping in. 

“Why don’t you get me cleaned up and I can give my statement and we’ll get back to your show.” Octavia squeezes Clarke’s hand. “I promise I’m okay, just maybe no repaying favors on my knees for a bit.” She winks when Clarke looks up at her. Clarke shoves her but she’s already laughing and shaking her head.

They’re okay.

##  _______________________________________

 

Half an hour later Clarke leans against the wall next to the open bar, a fancy bottle of water in hand that has the label practically engraved, no idly peeling the label off while she thinks. First Costia, then Wick, and now they’re all scattered throughout the art gallery trying to contain the personal disaster that this night has become. Professionally she thinks she might be able to salvage the night. She just has to trust that her girlfriends will be okay without her, that she’ll be okay without them for a while. It’ll just be her and a hundred or so rich strangers she has to convince to buy her art.

She’d rather be curled against one of their sides, but she knows she’ll never get any work done if she doesn’t let them go for a little while.

She takes a sip of the water and casts a glance at the champagne, her head is still spinning and after what happened with Wick she wants to be sober. Needs to be. If nothing else tonight will make for an interesting story in the paper, no one in the local art scene will likely forget her name.

Adjusting her suit she sets the empty bottle back down on the table and lets out a long breath, and with it she tries to push all her emotions aside. She has a crowd to work and she can’t do that with her head anguishing over the disasters she can’t control. Running her fingers through her hair she lifts her head and sets her shoulders. She scans the crowd for Lexa and Raven before she realizes what she’s started to do. As much as she wants to find them right now, make sure they’re okay, she needs to find Kane more.

Luckily he seems to have come to the same conclusion. They need to talk.

“So that was an ex of Raven’s?” Kane stops in front of Clarke, looking more worried than angry.

“Are you girls okay?” Abby has her arm linked through his, but she reaches out for Clarke.

Clarke nods rapidly and swallows down the swell of emotion in her chest. “I think we will be. I’m so sorry about the disturbance, Kane. We didn’t know he would be here.” She shakes her head to clear the tremble from her voice. Unable to meet her mother’s stare she drops her gaze to the floor for a moment trying to separate herself from the broken searching feeling inside. She needs to see Raven okay with her own eyes, feel her beneath her fingertips. “He has a history of stalking her and took out a restraining order last fall.”

Abby looks around the room, “Where is she? Where’s Lexa?”

“I’m not sure. I think Lexa might have gone after Raven, but Lexa was talking with Costia.” Clarke presses her lips together.

“Well, it seems that at least for now things might calm down, what with him in police custody again.” Kane says.

“What do we need to do now? Some people are leaving, and it seems like people are afraid to come talk to me.”

“Wait, who’s Costia?”

“Lexa’s ex. It’s a night of exes apparently.”

“Is  _ she _ okay?” Abby asks, worried.

“I don’t know. I was going to go check on her and then Wick started making a scene and now I can’t find Lexa or Raven.” Clarke has to remind herself to breathe.

Kane reaches out a hand and places it on her shoulder gently, “Listen, you worry about making sure everyone is alright. I’ll start talking to potential buyers. Work your way back into the conversation when you can. Tonight is important for a lot of reasons, and I’m not worried about your art selling, because it is, and it will.”

Clarke nods.

“Do you want me to stay with you, Clarke?” Abby asks.

“No,” Clarke shakes her head. “You stay with Kane, between the two of you, you know pretty much everything about me and my art. And I’ll be fine, just need to find my girlfriends.”

“As long as you’re sure.”

“Clarke!” Two familiar voices call out in unison.

Clarke spins and finds herself face to face with two faces she hasn’t seen in nearly four years. Harper and Monroe, rush toward her, ecstatic smiles on their faces. Clarke hasn’t seen them since they moved away for Harper to attend culinary school. She wonders briefly how many other people from their past will walk through the gallery doors tonight.

She misses Abby and Kane slipping back into the crowd.

“Guys!” Clarke throws her arms wide and accepts the hugs from both her friends. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what are we doing here? Clarke Fucking Griffin has a huge gallery opening, like we’re not gonna show up for the free champagne and overly fancy food.” Monroe punches Clarke in the shoulder lightly.

Clarke rubs her shoulder, and grins before returning the punch.

Harper lets out a laugh and nudges Monroe, “What she means is we just moved back into town, like three days ago, and we saw posters about the gallery at Station Coffee and we thought we’d come see if the amazing Griffin still remembers us who knew her back when.”

“Why didn’t you call? You could have crashed with us while you got settled.” Clarke flags down a passing waiter and hands them glasses of champagne.

“None for you?”

“Do you still live in that tiny ass apartment with Octavia?”

“It’s be an interesting night.” Clarke rolls her eyes, “And actually no, we don’t live there anymore, we gave it up.”

“But the location was prime!” Harper looks mock horrified, “Don’t tell me you two broke up.”

Clarke laughs and she feels her face blush. She bites her bottom lip, trying to stop the smile big enough to make her cheeks ache. “No, we didn’t break up, but um-”

“Harpoe!” Octavia nearly screams as she rushes up to the three of them. 

Clarke takes a step back as there’s a rush and tangle of excited fast talking women suddenly in front of her, exchanging hugs and exclaiming over how it’s been far too long. They used to see each other every day, had apartments next door to each other. 

“Okay, so you’re still together, but you gave up that epic apartment?” Monroe quirks her head to the side. 

Octavia slips an arm around Clarke’s waist and Clarke leans into her. “We needed a bigger place-”

“-did you adopt?”

“No,” Octavia starts, grinning.

“We,” Clarke pauses trying to find the right words. It’s easier when she can just reach out to her multiple girlfriends and show people. “We’re poly. We have two girlfriends.”

There’s a pregnant pause. Harper takes a sip of champagne before muttering, “Damn… that’s hot.”

“They’re here, right?” Monroe grins.

“Yeah, actually the whole crew is.” Octavia breathes out and squeezes Clarke happily. Coming out is going to be fine, exes aside, everyone else has been happy for them. “I’m not sure where Raven and Lexa have gotten to but Niylah’s somewhere and Lincoln should be back-”

“The commotion outside?”

“Yeah. It’s been an interesting evening,” Octavia shakes her head.

“What about Bellamy?”

Octavia looks away for a moment unable to look into their bright, earnest, excited faces and tell them what happened.

“Long story, that requires drinks first.” Clarke’s smile falters. It’s been six months and they haven’t heard from Bellamy at all, which is probably for the best, but she knows how much it’s torn Octavia apart.

“Okay, we’re going to go find Niylah and say hello, but you find your girlfriends and bring them over to be properly introduced, because apparently we have some catching up to do, and we’re holding you to those drinks,” Harper smiles and reaches forward to pull Clarke into a hug. “It’s good to see you,” she whispers. “You look happy.”

Stepping back into Octavia’s embrace she stops fighting the smile on her lips, “Definitely.” Clarke leans her head against Octavia’s shoulder, feeling light for just a moment.

She pulls Octavia against her, pressing a faint kiss to Octavia’s neck and then her cheek, and breathing in her scent. If there were a way to hit pause on this night she would. Grab her girlfriends and her friends and take them somewhere away from the world, just for a few hours. Life doesn’t work like that though.

“Wick?”

“Headed down to the station with Lincoln.”

“Raven?”

“We’ll need her to officially go downtown and make a statement. Right now he’s being held for assaulting a police officer and violating the restraining order.” Octavia steps back from Clarke, and there’s a tired look in her eyes. “I can’t believe he was stupid enough to hit Lincoln. Is Raven okay?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen Lexa either, last I saw she was talking with Costia.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s about what I said.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven rounds the corner into the back hallway where not even an hour earlier she had been hiding with Clarke, sneaking a sip of whiskey. Her head pounds and throat constricts as she struggles to listen for Wick over the din of the party. Voices echoing off concrete floors and ceilings, it’s on the verge of too loud. Raven prides herself on keeping calm and level headed and hates the moments where she feels her blood boil, fear, panic, and anger taking over until she can’t breathe.

She presses her forehead to the wall, relishing in the cool smooth surface against her heated skin. “ _ Deus me dá paciência, se me der força eu mato um… _ ” she mutters. Her head spins. 

Wick is back. 

Wick knows where she is. 

Wick is still crazy enough to walk right through a restraining order.

It should have been enough to keep him away. She shouldn’t have to leave her friend and her  _ girlfriend _ to take care of her past, even if it is their job. Raven trembles and almost walks back out into the art gallery because as much as he terrifies her, she doesn’t want anything to happen to anyone she cares for because she was too afraid to take care of her own problems.

Closing her eyes she turns and leans back against the wall. She lets it be her strength for a moment. But the feeling of strength is short lived as memories flashback, playing like a horror film behind her eyes. Wick, cornering her, coercing her, talking her into staying, and making her feel like the broken way she feels is her fault, if only she tried everything would be okay between them. She can’t give up now, not when he needs her. He leans against the wall, trapping her there, unable to run because she can barely walk.

Raven takes in a deep breathe.

“Don’t let it out,” Lexa whispers.

She didn’t hear her approach. Didn’t notice that she wasn’t alone. She should have because what if it had been Wick? Raven keeps her eyes closed as she feels Lexa’s hand come to rest over her heart, feels Lexa’s index finger tap out a slow, gentle beat. She swipes her thumb across Raven’s collarbone and Raven lets out the breath.

She opens her eyes and Lexa comes into focus, standing close but far enough away that Raven could easily step aside if she needed, if she wanted. “Thank you.” Wrapping her fingers around Lexa’s wrist she tugs her closer. She doesn’t want the distance between them, just the assured clarity that comes from being in Lexa’s embrace.

Lexa’s brow creases as she takes a step closer, still not quite touching Raven. She can still see the storm brewing in Raven’s dark amber eyes. The way she cut through the crowd with her walk that said  _ I might snap if you touch me _ . “Wick?” She raises an eyebrow, all thoughts of the turmoil in her own heart brought up by Costia’s sudden reappearance pushed aside.

Raven locks her jaw, pushing it to the side. She can’t get herself to say his name, or verbalize the bitter fear lining her throat. Nodding once she turns away from Lexa unable to admit to the weakness she can feel creeping over her. She wants to hide and she feels so terribly exposed. This is not who she is.

This is who he made her. She slips the flask out of her garter belt.

The door beside Raven crashes open as Lexa pushes her way into Kane’s office. Raven jumps and leans a hand against the wall to keep her balance. There’s something determined in the set of Lexa’s shoulders that Raven recognizes; she’s on a mission.

“...I’m calling a judge and we’re getting this sorted,  _ now _ .” Lexa growls as she digs through their pile of bags on the couch. “If he thinks he can…”

Raven takes a long pull of whiskey and wanders into Kane’s office shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. “Lexa?” She takes another sip.

Lexa spins on her heel, phone in hand. Raven’s voice has an edge of tired fear in it and Lexa’s heart aches with it, pulling her from her mission to find a way to get Wick away from Raven and preferably behind bars for a much longer sentence this time. Even though she doesn’t work prosecution for criminal cases she still has contacts. This is something she can control, unlike Costia showing up. Unlike Costia’s kindness and humility after eight long years.

She crosses the small room in two steps and takes the flask from Raven’s trembling hand. Lexa tips her head back, the whiskey burning her throat and making her eyes water. Half an hour ago she probably would have rolled her eyes at the hidden flask but now she’s thankful for the whiskey. Tonight is turning into everything it shouldn’t have.

“This is about more than…” his name catches in her throat, “Wick, isn’t it?” Raven dusts her fingertips along the outside of Lexa’s elbow.

Lexa hands the now empty flask back to Raven. “Costia is here. I can’t do anything about her, but I can get rid of…  _ him. _ ”

“ _ Puta que pariu _ . Are you alright?” Raven’s hand closes around Lexa’s arm.

“I could ask you the same,” Lexa offers up a small smile and steps into Raven’s space. 

She brushes back stray hairs that have fallen free from Raven’s updone hair, delicate braids tied in a high ponytail. Raven turns her cheek into the touch, ghosting her lips over the palm of Lexa’s hand, as she wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist.

Lexa brings both her hands up to cradle Raven’s face, her thumbs swiping across her cheeks. Knowing she could lose herself in Raven right now, but knowing they have two other girlfriends and as many exes to be tended to out in the middle of Clarke’s largest art show to date.

“Did he do anything?”

“Aside from not take no for an answer and implying I’m a whore for loving the three of you? No..” Raven shrugs and settles forward, leaning her weight against Lexa and resting her leg. Lexa wraps an arm around her to hold her up and close. Hiding away in here, feeling Lexa’s heartbeat, Raven feels the tension in her chest ease. 

Lexa traces the back of her fingers down Raven’s cheek, she leans in whispering against Raven’s ear, “He’s not getting to you again. You’re with us now. Let Octavia and me take care of him.” She presses a kiss to the shell of her ear. “I will always be right beside you, on your side.”

Raven nods, she should have let them help a long time ago. “Even though I pushed us to come out tonight?” Raven traces her hands up Lexa’s spine, running her fingertips over the tattoo she knows is there, hidden under Lexa’s hair.

Lexa kisses Raven’s cheek, “You know how I feel.” She presses her nose to the spot where her lips just were. Her trembling words are barely breath against Raven’s skin, “I love you, Raven.”

A small whine in the back of her throat, Raven leans back, not wanting to give up the contact, “Lexa.” Her name is gutteral, a breathe, a promise, hope. She wants to fall against Lexa, entwined, kisses with teeth and tongue, and forget about the room full of people on the other side of the door. This should be the end of their fight. She wants to write her apology in lipstick stains on Lexa’s neck.

Instead Raven tilts her head to the side, a soft smile on her lips. She reaches up, running her fingers through Lexa’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. “I just can’t stand not having you and our girls by my side.” She wraps her arms around Lexa’s bare shoulders. “If I could take back the things I said-”

“You wouldn’t be you,” Lexa tilts her head and closes the small distance between them with a soft press of lips against lips. A promise that the passion, good and bad is everything she wants, and that she wouldn’t want Raven in another way. Lexa feels Raven relax in her arms.

“No,” she grins, “I wouldn’t, but you aren’t selfish, Lexa.” Raven kisses her cheek and Lexa ducks her head. It’s been nearly two years since they met and Lexa can’t imagine her life without the woman in her arms. Raven elevates their relationship. The four of them together are more than they could ever be apart. Each of their pairings a complete, whole, functional relationship, but somehow more than whole because they get to share their love. “Are you okay though?” Raven bites her bottom lip, her gaze searching. “How did Costia just turn up here tonight?”

Lexa shrugs, “Would our life ever be anything easy?”

“I wouldn’t change it for a minute.” Raven cups her hand around the back of Lexa’s neck and squeezes gently. “Did she know you were even here?”

“No,” Lexa shakes her head and breaks away from Raven’s embrace, and paces in a small circle. She hasn’t processed Costia showing up yet or how she feels about it. “She’s married now. Brought her wife, just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Less so, perhaps.” Tilting her head she regards Raven, “She apologized.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her I was happily in love with multiple women.” Lexa chews on her bottom lip. It had been easier and harder to start talking about than she had thought, even though she didn’t get to do more than admit to her relationship. She never thought she would be telling Costia about the women she had come to love.

Raven grins and steps forward catching her fingers on Lexa’s hips to pull her closer. “You didn’t point us out?” Lexa spins to face Raven.

“Not yet,” her tone is teasing. Lexa steps forward, walking Raven backward until she’s pressed against Kane’s desk. “There was this commotion and one of my girlfriends looked upset so I needed to check on her.” She brushes her nose against Raven’s cheek, breath puffing against her lips. “So, I’m doing that.”

Lexa breathes in and closes the distance between them, pressing their lips together. This is about more than connecting after their exes walked back into their lives with no warning, it’s about the fight it took for them to get here. The fight that neither of them wanted to have because they both wanted the same thing. And now that they’ve walked this far out of the closet with their polyamorous relationship there’s no going back in. Lexa feels Raven’s fingertips dig into her hips as she pulls her forward hard, flush against her center as she sits on Kane’s desk.

Lexa never wanted to hurt any of them by keeping their relationship a secret, but that’s all she did, and her intentions mean little because of it. She’s willing to spend every day trying to make it up to each of them, no matter what it costs her.

She bites down on Raven’s bottom lip, tugging it into her mouth, her hands roving over Raven’s exposed lower back, fingernails scratching lightly. Her tongue swipes across the spot where her teeth just were before dipping into Raven’s mouth. 

Raven’s hand tangles tightly in her hair and Lexa’s breath catches in her throat. She’s half tempted to swipe Kane’s desk clean and lay Raven out on it, as the kiss continues to heat up. The fact that it isn’t hers is the only thing that keeps her from doing so when Raven’s hand slides underneath the thigh high slit in her dress and over her bare hip.

“Fuck, Lexa,” Raven hooks a finger around the band of Lexa’s thong and tugs, eliciting a gasp from Lexa. “You really did dress up tonight.” 

Lexa slips her hand up Raven’s thigh and wraps her index finger around the strip of lace curving over Raven’s hip. “I could say the same,” she whispers, nipping at Raven’s jaw before trailing kisses down her neck. “Too bad we have to go back out the show.”

“Do you really want to?” Raven squeezes Lexa’s ass, trailing her nails over the sensitive skin. Lexa shivers as the sensation twists through her, straight to her core. She dips her head resting her forehead on Raven’s shoulder for a moment, the party and everyone else can wait a little longer. 

She resists the urge to leave a lipstick trail up Raven’s neck. They do have to go back out to the show floor eventually. Lexa straightens up, and runs her fingertips of her free hand along Raven’s collarbone. They could still have fun though. She twists Raven’s panties around her finger once more, “I could rip these off you with a flick of my wrist.”

Lexa tilts her head to the side, cocky and daring, but waiting for permission. She licks her lips. 

“What are you waiting for?” Raven spreads her legs wider. She runs her fingertips along Lexa’s shoulders pushing down the impossibly thin straps of her dress and leans forward to press a soft kiss to the valley between Lexa’s breasts. She leans back, a smirk on her lips.

Lexa swallows down a grin and purses her lips meeting Raven’s confidence with that of her own. She closes her fist and jerks her hand back. There's a moment of resistance as Raven flies forward into Lexa's arms before the lace rips. Raven's chest heaves against Lexa's as their eyes meet. Slowly Lexa pulls her hand out from Raven’s skirt the remaining lace twisted in her hand. She holds the ruined panties high. 

“You won't be needing these,” she breathes out before dropping them in the trash can next to the desk and dropping to her knees. 

Her hands slide along Raven’s leg, ghosting nails along the edge of her prosthetic before trailing higher and pushing her skirt aside. She looks up at Raven expectantly, as hot as this moment is, the tension, the dares, her heart is in her throat. Lexa needs to know that what she’s offering is enough, even if it’s only the start of her penance. 

Raven reaches down, one finger twirling around a loose strand of Lexa’s hair. She nods, the smirk never leaving her lips.

Lexa presses a kiss to the inside of Raven’s thigh, teasing the delicate skin between her teeth. She brushes her nose higher, breathing in the scent of Raven’s desire. Their eyes are still locked.

The door opens with a crash and Lexa bites down on Raven’s thigh harder than she intended. Raven’s eyes roll back in her head and she lets out a breathy curse in Portuguese that Lexa can’t quite make out.

“Still fucking hot girls in closets, I see,” Anya drawls.

Raven throws her head back in frustration, “You have the worst timing.”

Lexa stands and turns in one fluid motion, rolling her eyes at her sister. She sighs, her body on fire with want. “It’s an office, Anya.”

Anya raises an eyebrow and glances around the tiny room that can barely fit the desk and couch Kane has crammed in there. “I think Clarke said it used to be a closet.” She shrugs, the corner of her mouth twitching in an almost smile. “Speaking of your girlfriends, they’re looking for you both.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only a few chapters left of the main story... and then the almost neverending epilogue that I've got planned.


	31. Whose Hand Do I Hold? part 1 | 6 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the holiday season begins...

Raven never moved back into her apartment. The contractors started tearing out the damaged drywall and found other problems, then they accidentally cut through plumbing and electrical lines alike in two separate instances. Her lease had been coming up in a few months anyway and Lexa talked them into letting Raven out of her contract early on account of the fact that she couldn’t actually live in the space she was renting. 

They’d moved in her remaining things the following weekend. She took the spare room downstairs as her bedroom, though she hasn’t used it much for sleeping, instead opting to set up a workshop as it had hardwood floors, even though her bed is there for show. She prefers to work standing on the hardwood rather than the concrete in the garage though she fully plans on building a secondary workshop out there should the living situation work out. She thinks of it that way, not able to process the possibility of the relationship failing.

None of that excitement mollifies the fear that’s settled into the pit of her stomach.

The four of them have only just started properly dating, even their individual relationships are new, though if she’s honest they’ve been together since long before they talked about it, long before the first kiss.

Raven sits down on her bed heavily and flops back with a whine. Things are tumbling together so quickly they’ve barely had time to breathe. Only a few days together on steady ground and then there was Octavia’s accident, barely two months later and she’s already moved in.

It’s too soon, but she didn’t have a lot of options that didn’t involve scrambling for a new apartment that she would barely spend any time in. 

Her fingernails dig along the edges of the scars on her leg. There’s one that cuts up across the front of her thigh and wraps around her hip and she runs her nails along the edge of it. Beneath it is a cluster of lighter scars, nail thin scratches. She has a nervous habit, picking at scabs, and a worse habit creating them. It’s worse when she feels like running.

All Raven wants is to throw up her walls because she just expects this to lead to hurt.

She sucks in breath as she feels her nail break through the skin after several minutes of worrying at it. There’s something clarifying in the sharpness of the pain and she hates that but at least it pulls her out of the spiral for just a few seconds, enough to surface and breathe and realize that her impulses are not what she wants or needs.

It’s the anxiety talking.

It’s the fear that Wick left her with buried deep inside that no one will ever love her again, or the reality that Luna left her with that people will do what they need to and sometimes that means walking away. And Finn’s stark truth that no one lives forever.

She’s crying again before she can reel her feelings in.

“Raven?” Octavia’s voice is quiet like she’s almost afraid to disturb Raven or set her off.

Raven inhales and rubs her face with her hands, willing herself back together. There’s no reason to go off on Octavia, or any of their girls. There’s no reason for feeling like this but she does. She wishes she didn’t.

Before she can sit up Octavia is kneeling beside her on the bed, picking up Raven’s hand and turning it over gently. “What happened?” 

It’s clear that Octavia is making an effort to keep her voice even.

Raven opens her eyes to see her fingers smudged with blood. “I didn’t…”

The words die on her tongue.

She didn’t really think about what she was doing, too caught up in trying to keep herself from feeling overwhelmed. She knows Octavia too well to ignore the fact that internally Octavia is freaking out. It’s there in the calm steadiness of her question that had nothing to do with how or where Raven was bleeding but the why of whence it came.

“I’m okay… I’m okay.” Raven tries to sound convincing as she moves to stand. She doesn’t want to be a worry or a bother. She can sort out her own problems.

Octavia places a hand on Raven’s shoulder to keep her firmly on the bed. “Stay here.” She walks out of the room calmly and Raven can hear her rummaging around in the downstairs bathroom. She stays put.

The blood on her fingers is already drying and she can feel the regret seeping in. She glances down at her leg and stands quickly, realizing the blood is start to run down her leg and onto the bedspread. She grabs a clean rag from her workbench and spits on it before she starts scrubbing at the comforter. There’s a vague recollection from chemistry class that your own spit has the best enzymes for breaking down your own blood so it doesn’t stain.

She doesn’t pay much attention to the blood running down her leg. All she can do is scrub at the bed and hope for the best.

Octavia does however. She doesn’t say much, just directs Raven to sit down on her stool and sets to cleaning up the mess. Octavia’s hands are deft, working quickly to wipe up the drying blood and bandage the wound. Raven only barely registers the sting of the antiseptic.

“You’re leg,” Octavia taps on Raven’s socket. “Can we take it off to make sure there isn’t any blood that needs to be cleaned up inside?”

Raven feels mute, like the words won’t come. She nods and chews on her lip. Of all her girlfriends she didn’t expect Octavia to react quite so calmly to her panicking. Then again, Octavia had a lifetime of helping Clarke. Different manifestations, similar problems. She’s never really experienced Octavia like this, quiet and tender, deferring to Raven for even the smallest of moves.

Octavia breathes out slowly and slips off Raven’s prosthetic like she’s watched her do hundreds of times, but never done herself. The level of trust Raven has handed her isn’t lost. She wipes the prosthetic down with an alcohol swab and sets it against the bed. Next she peels back the liner and cleans it off before setting it aside to dry. At best she’s trying not to think about the why of it and just focused on taking care of cleaning up the aftermath. They can get to the part that makes her heart ache later.

With the last of the blood cleaned up Octavia tosses the garbage away and kneels down in front of Raven. She wraps her hands around Raven’s thighs, any other time  this would feel highly sexual, but all she can think is that she needs to be closer to Raven and without moving this is what she gets.

She presses a kiss to the inside of Raven’s left thigh and leans her forehead there.

“What are you worried about?” She turns her head just enough to watch Raven’s reaction. 

At first there’s no change in Raven’s expression, just a silent almost anger that Octavia knows is probably directed inwardly and not at her.

Octavia waits. She can see microexpressions flit across Raven’s face as she searches for her answer and tries to hold back a torrent of emotions. She knows from years of being around Clarke that pushing usually leads to slamming doors and long painful periods of miscommunication. 

After the second time Raven has opened her mouth only to promptly shut it again Octavia helps Raven across the room and to the bed, tugging her down onto the mattress. She breathes out a sigh of relief when Raven comes willingly, expecting at any moment to be kicked out. This is Raven’s space after all.

She pulls Raven closer, running her fingers through her hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head when Raven starts sniffling. Raven’s arms wrap around her, and Octavia’s heart breaks a little.

“My life looks nothing like it did three and a half months ago,” Raven whispers.

“Considering three and a half months ago your ex was stalking you, I’d say that’s maybe a good thing.” 

Raven laughs, but it’s more a hiccuping sob than anything else.

“You know what I mean.” Raven shoves playfully at Octavia’s shoulder and they pull apart just far enough that they can look at each other, their legs still tangled together. “You and Clarke and Lexa… and now I’m living here.”

Octavia brushes her thumb across Raven’s cheeks to catch the tears. “Would you rather have your own place?” Her stomach sinks like a stone to the bottom of a lake. 

“No...yes...but no.” Raven twists so she’s looking up at the ceiling. “Financially, logically, me being here makes sense. The four of us is…”

“Serious.”

Raven rolls back over and catches one of Octavia’s hands in her own. “Yeah.”

“I still feel like I’m trying to catch my breath sometimes.” Octavia squeezes Raven’s hand.

“I’m still trying to wrap my brain around all of it…”

“Around the idea that we love you.”

Raven bites her bottom lip as her heart picks up speed. She can hear it thudding in her ears and she wonders if it’s loud enough that Octavia can hear. They haven’t said that yet. It’s been there in touches and looks and kisses and every word but that one. And Raven feels like she might forget to breath for a moment having heard it, “Yeah, that.”

Octavia leans forward, hovering over Raven, “We aren’t going anywhere.” The kiss that follows is sweet and gentle and full of promise.

Full of safety.

As if her girls are a safe harbor, and she won’t break upon the shore.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa knocks twice before stepping into Indra’s office.

Her boss had called her in and hated to be kept waiting. She appreciates the perfunctory manor. Unlike down at the D.A.’s office there isn’t as much time wasting and second guessing. Lexa knows where she stands and exactly how everyone feels about her work, at least as far as their opinions are pertinent.

They support each other and get out of each others’ way. It’s refreshing. There isn’t the infighting and the false bravado.

Still, Lexa doesn’t quite know what to expect from her boss. Especially her boss who is supposed to be leaving on holiday and isn’t often overly sentimental about taking time apart..

Indra’s sat behind her oversized desk, it’s white and simple and modern and everything that is the antithesis of the typical lawyer stereotype. Not that Trikru Associates has ever really played by the rules and joined the boys club.

“Any plans for the holidays?” Indra asks, barely looking up from the papers she’s sorting into folders.

It’s the last thing Lexa expects but she shouldn’t be surprised, though Indra is typically busy she’s been making an effort to learn about who Lexa is as a person and not just a lawyer.

“My… roommates and I are throwing a party the day after Christmas for all of our friends.” Lexa stumbles over the word  _ roommates _ , because, while truthful, it’s terribly inaccurate, but she can’t bring herself to say anything else. She still feels like she’s only just settling in at work, and despite wanting to be honest, fear still clings in her gut. “But nothing much else planned yet. My sister and I usually have a quiet day and a lot of chinese take out.” 

“Sometimes the quiet is what we need.” Indra’s gaze flicks up to Lexa standing halfway into the room, barely shifting from foot to foot and feeling like a kid called into the principal’s office.

Lexa almost swears there’s a hint of a smile in Indra’s voice.

“What about you? Any big holiday plans?” Lexa takes the chance. If they’re exchanging pleasantries and playing the get to know eachother game she might learn what she can.

Indra shakes her head and straightens up the papers on her desk. She doesn’t answer until she’s standing and pushing her chair back in. “A quiet week in a cabin in the woods with a few cousins and our partners. None of the chaos of the city.”

The idea of Indra in the woods strikes Lexa as incongruous but also completely in character. She smiles at the answer, though. It’s a reminder that they’re all just regular people outside of work. “A week away sounds wonderful. Not having to worry about any of this.” Lexa waves her hand at the office and out at the city just beyond the windows of Indra’s office. “Or what anyone thinks, because you’re around the people that get you.”

Lexa’s slowly gently pressing up against the walls of the traditionalism of modern society. She knows any preliminary look into her past would show she is anything but traditional, from her family to who she loves, she’s done little to hide that, but still there’s something about being polyamorous that gives her pause when it comes to being honest.

“It’s rather refreshing to just be accepted for who you are, no questions, isn’t it?” Indra makes her way around her desk, reaching for her coat as she does. “Especially in this line of work, where so many people are constantly judging us.”

“Incredibly, so.” Lexa opens the door and follows Indra out trying to keep the hope out of her head. Hints and double language are nothing when she needs certainty, especially when there are a hundred reasons why Indra could have said what she did and few of them have anything to do with Lexa.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia’s perched on her stool at the bar at The Trading Post. It’s been awhile since she came here alone, or at all, but it still feels like hers. She spent years coming in here to sit with Clarke, to talk to Niylah. This was the point around which their life revolved, even after Clarke and Niylah went their separate ways.

She misses talking with Niylah all the time, about everything and nothing. There was a time when they would tell each other everything about their lives. She wants to be able to tell Niylah about Lexa and Raven and how she loves that Niylah is with Anya and Lincoln now.

It’s been a long time since they came to each other about the deep stuff.

“You’re coming to the after-Christmas party, yeah?” Octavia leans on the bar as she reaches for a maraschino cherry. She pops one into her mouth and smiles at the burst of sweet. Maybe later would be a time for an apology about the lost time, but the best she knows to do is to treat this friendship like it’s what she wants from it.

“Yeah,” Niylah answers slowly and smacks Octavia’s hand away from the cherries as she reaches for another. Octavia sticks out her tongue.

“So, Anya’s gonna be there…”

“I know, I’m coming with her.”

“Oh.” There’s a twist of jealousy in her heart that Niylah can just admit to her relationship. “And Lincoln, too.” She ventures, wanting to ask straight out but not wanting to put anyone in an awkward position.

“Just spit it out Octavia, I know Lincoln told you about how we’re both dating Anya. So what is it?” Niylah sets down the glass she’s cleaning and fixes Octavia with a stare. 

Octavia dips her head, chastised. “Nothing, it’s just, we used to talk a lot more.”

“You also used to live on that stool, and I used to date Clarke,” Niylah shrugs “Things change.”

“I miss talking to you.” If things can change once, they can change again. Octavia swirls the beer in her pint around the edges, watching the foam cling and rejoin the amber liquid. The last several months of her life have turned everything in her life on it’s head. She’s feeling growing pains and she’s grasping to hold onto everything and everyone she values so she doesn’t lose them as she gets through this. “Are you happy?”

“I am.” Niylah smiles and shakes her head and leans on the bar across from Octavia.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Are you okay with Lincoln being involved with Anya… and me, in some ways.” Niylah squeezes Octavia’s forearm before busying herself with cleaning the counter again.

Octavia nods enthusiastically. “You know he and I broke up amicably years ago. He’s my best friend, I want him to enjoy his life and find happiness. If that means the two of you, then yes, I’m very much okay with it.”

Niylah tosses the dirty rag into the bucket on the floor. “What do you say we go for a hike before the new year?”

“Like old times?”

“More or less, you won’t be dragging me out of Clarke’s bed.” Niylah winks. “But early morning, coffee in thermoses.”

There was a time when almost every week Octavia would bound into Clarke’s room, blanket in hand, toss it over Clarke and Niylah, and flop down on top of them. Clarke would groan and burrow down and Niylah would regard her warily.  _ Weather good? _ She’d mumble sleepily. Octavia would nod and bounce back off the bed.  _ Bright and shiny _ . Twenty minutes later they’d be getting onto Octavia’s motorcycle, if it was just the two of them, or climbing into Niylah’s car if she had managed to drag Clarke from bed and speeding out of town before the sun rose.

“Just us, or are we inviting anyone else?” Octavia quirks her head to the side.

“I dunno, why don’t we see how we feel after we get through the holiday torture.” Niylah rolls her eyes.

Octavia gives her a sympathetic smile. Niylah’s from a town whiter and stiffer than linen drying on the line. “Going home this year?”

“Just for Christmas Eve, but that’s more than enough.”

“Are you taking them with you?”

“I’m not sure if the family would take more offense to Anya being a woman or half-Nepalese. And  _ if _ Lincoln and I were to date, which we aren’t yet, the only points he’d get were for being the ‘correct’ gender, whatever the fuck that means.” Niylah smacks the glass she’s cleaning down on the drying rack. “You saw how much my dad freaked out over me hinting that Clarke and I might be together. Bringing both of them would be a disaster.”

That had been a bad week. Niylah’s parents had been in town for her birthday. Niylah and Clarke hadn’t decided if they wanted to be serious or not, just enjoying being with each other. Her mother had dealt with walking in on them kissing better than her father had dealt with Niylah hinting that Clarke was her girlfriend. There had been a lot of yelling and a broken shot glass.

“But potentially effective as a  _ fuck you forever _ and  _ goodbye _ .” Octavia raises her pint glass in salute and drains down the last of it.

“True. That is tempting,” Niylah grins. “But I wouldn’t want to put either of them through that.”

They share a look and nod. Sometimes it’s better that people just don’t know certain things, especially when they’re family. 

“So, we reconvene after the party and see where things stand?” Niylah takes the empty glass and starts washing it.

“Bright and shiny.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa, Octavia, Raven, and Clarke are crammed inside the laundry room wearing their laundry day clothes, shorts and t-shirts that they’d never be caught outside in. Things have been busy lately and between the four of them they have a lot of laundry, which all needs to be sorted.

“Jeans don’t go in the darks pile, I made a pile for just jeans.” Lexa leans over and picks up the jeans Octavia just dropped and turns them inside out. “I think we have enough for a load between the four of us.”

“I think we have identical jeans, O, because those look like mine.” Raven holds up a shirt to examine it for special care instructions.

“I actually think those are yours.” Octavia shrugs and dives into her laundry basket.

Clarke laughs, “Welcome Raven, your clothes are no longer really your own, unless they live in your drawer. Otherwise it’s a case of ‘does this fit’? Then it’s communal.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and shoots Clarke a look. “We can rearrange the dressers if you don’t want to share clothes. But these two haven’t not shared clothes in nearly twenty years, so it might be an uphill battle.”

“It’s okay.” Raven smiles softly.

“I haven’t worn my fuzzy socks in months because Clarke keeps stealing them to have dance parties.”

“We’ll just need to find more.” Clarke tosses a handful of black shirts towards the blacks pile.

Four girls and three weeks of laundry. There’s a pile for whites, another for delicates, one for jeans, the household pile, blacks, darks, lights, and bedding. Some of the piles might need to be split.

The sorting continues, piles growing until they start to blend together and the girls can’t find the floor.

Raven feels like this, the most mundane thing they’ve done since she moved in, is the moment she really feels like they mean for her to be there for more than just a little while. It’s enough that she wants to ask about something that’s been on her mind for a while now. Everything is moving fast, but it feels right.

She clears her throat, and three sets of eyes flick in her direction. No pressure.

“I promised my mom I’d come home for Christmas.” Raven pauses, waiting for a reaction “She usually has a big thing on Christmas Eve every year. I haven’t been home in a few years, since Finn died. I thought it was time for me to go back.”

Clarke tosses a couple of shirts towards the whites pile, “I thought Christmas Eve was going to be the four of us?” 

“Anya was talking about doing our normal takeout and movie marathon on Christmas Eve as well. Niylah has to go out to see her family in Eastern Oregon and gets back on Christmas day.” 

“So, Anya, Lincoln, and Niylah will be busy then.” Octavia grins. “Bellamy hasn’t mentioned wanting to do anything except come to our party, but I think he’s doing something with Gina and her family.” Octavia shakes out a few pairs of socks and tosses them toward their respective piles.

“And my mom hasn’t decided if she wants to do dinner on Christmas Eve or breakfast on Christmas Day.” Clarke sighs. “Maybe we can do something on Christmas Eve eve? Or after the party?”

They continue to sort clothes for a little while in silence, no one answering, trying to figure out if there was a morning or evening that they all might not be promised to be somewhere else other than home. Lexa dumps out the last of the clothes to be sorted on top of the washer and Octavia hops up on the dryer to continue sorting. Clarke starts stacking laundry baskets to go back upstairs.

“What if we all went to my mom’s for dinner on Christmas Eve?” Raven asks slowly. 

Lexa raises an eyebrow in question.

“Does she cook like you?” Octavia tosses a pair of jeans at Raven who catches them easily.

“Vovó does.” Raven grins. “And she always cooks enough for a small army. We could invite Abby and Anya, too.”

Lexa looks around the room, Raven hopeful, Octavia excited by the potential of food, and Clarke pensive. She doesn’t know quite how she feels yet and keeps her eyes down on the laundry. 

“I figure since they already know about us… Okay Anya knows about all of us, but my mom would want to meet someone else’s parents and Abby is actually okay with the three of you dating. If we told her then we could just go celebrate Christmas as family and not have to worry about any of it.” Raven reaches for Clarke and pulls her closer over the piles of dirty clothes so they crash into each other. She kisses the corner of Clarke’s mouth and Clarke kisses her back. “I think it’d be good for us to just get to be together in front of other people, like this is normal and not something we have to hide.”

Clarke presses her face into Raven’s neck. Raven’s hit a nerve, one they’ve been banging up against over and over again, like an unfortunately placed funny bone. This is the thing they’ve been fighting over since the start.

Lexa’s voice is quiet, and she doesn’t look up from the laundry she’s dumping in the washer. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to spring a polyamorous relationship on your family on Christmas?”

“They were okay with it before.” Raven shrugs and reaches out for Lexa’s elbow.

“We haven’t even talked about coming out,” Lexa turns slowly still trying to get the first load of laundry going while not letting her fear get the best of her. “Let alone holidays…”

Octavia finishes dumping in the soap and softener and sets the cycle but doesn’t turn it on. She slides across to the washer and pulls Lexa back against her, wrapping her arms around Lexa’s shoulders. Her head is starting to feel like a migraine is coming on, so she hides her eyes from the light.

Raven extracts herself from Clarke’s arms and takes half a step toward Lexa, all that the piles of laundry will allow. “Then let’s have that conversation now, because when else are we going to have it? There’s always going to be something happening that makes the timing not perfect.” She reaches out for Lexa’s hand and Lexa lets her take it. “I know things are moving fast, believe me, but they are and there doesn’t seem to be any way to slow it down and I don’t want to go home this year without all of you and I promised my mom I would go home.”

Clarke maneuvers around the laundry and leans next to Lexa against the washing machine. “Telling my mom about Raven shouldn’t be a problem, and if Raven’s family is as open as they say they are it seems like a safe place to start.”

Lexa nods and leans back against Octavia just trying to feel her way to calm. She doesn’t want to have to hide but they’ve been keeping their relationship a secret for so long she’s afraid to change.

“We start there, see how it goes.” Octavia kisses the spot just behind Lexa’s ear and squeezes her tight.

“It doesn’t have to go beyond that right away, Lex. Small steps.” Clarke takes Lexa’s hand kisses it. “You have the new job now, and it’s going well. This is what we talked about.”

Raven bites her lower lip and nudges the laundry piles aside so she can stand in front of Lexa, not quite touching but close. “I don’t want to push us into something we aren’t ready for, but I don’t think we’re ever going to be really ready for this.”

Lexa’s voice almost cracks, even surrounded by comfort and support, “I want to have all of that as much as the rest of you, but what if it goes poorly? Or someone says something to the wrong person…”

“Lexa, think about if it goes well though,” Raven takes Lexa’s hands and wraps them around her waist, closing the last of the distance between them.

Raven leans her head against Lexa’s shoulder and Octavia kisses the top of her head. Clarke shifts and Lexa opens up her arms to wrap one around Clarke as does Raven, until they’re all entwined, pressed together, taking solace in the fact that they’re in this together.

“I don’t want to have what happened at the hospital happen again,” Lexa whispers, her face hidden between Clarke and Raven.

“We need to make a plan for that, but maybe we start by trusting the people around us.” Raven says softly, “And I promise my parents are on board with the whole poly thing.”

Octavia kisses the top of Lexa’s head. “And it’s all one step at a time.”

“Family first.” Clarke looks up at Octavia. Maybe not all of their families. Octavia nods sadly.

“What about our friends? About the party?” Lexa straightens up a little and breathes down the tears no longer threatening to spill.

“Anya and Lincoln already know. I don’t think anyone but maybe Bellamy will really care– but we don’t have to decide about that right now– I just want to know if I get to take you three home with me for Christmas or not.” Raven leans into the girls and hopes.

Lexa steadies herself. The fear isn’t gone, but this is reasonable. It’s a calculated step. She can give this much.

“Okay, so Christmas Eve we go over to Raven’s parents’ place. Then Christmas Day, maybe Abby’s for breakfast?” Lexa nods, more to herself than anyone else.

“Maybe we can talk to Anya about doing takeout and movies after the party, or before it, or we could leave you two to it, and Clarke, Raven and I will grab Lincoln and Niylah and go do something while you two have sister time.” Octavia rests her chin on top of Lexa’s head.

Their lives might be complicated, really more than complicated, but slowly they’re starting to fit together. It’s starting to feel like they have a home.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke props her heel up on the edge of the couch. She wants to tuck her feet up, lean against her knees, grab a pillow and hug it to her chest, but she can’t. The last thing she wants is to show the shakiness she feels to her therapist. 

It’s nearly the end of their session and she’s done talking. She doesn’t feel like they’ve gotten anywhere today. Clarke is too far on the defensive. Everything on the tip of her tongue feels like too much or not enough. She’s afraid of being misunderstood.

All she wants is to curl in on herself and lay next to one of her girlfriends.

“How is Octavia’s recovery going?” her therapist, Becca, asks softly.

Clarke picks at the edge of her jeans. “It’s good. She has headaches sometimes, but they aren’t debilitating anymore.”

“And your friend that moved in, is she still staying with you?”

“Girlfriend.” Clarke corrects. “And yes. She decided to stay on a permanent basis.”

“Is she with all three of you, or just you?”

Clarke tugs her knee closer and rests her chin on it. “All of us.”

Silence descends on them, stretching the space between them until it snaps back and they feel closer than before. Clarke presses her mouth to her jeans refusing to acknowledge that her therapist is staring at her waiting for her to talk more. She hates this part. It makes her skin crawl and she wants nothing to do with anything in this room. It’s fake comfort, too neat, too tidy, the separation between client and therapist just a smidge too wide to be anything but clinical.

Clarke can wait.

Her eyes flick to the clock. Ten minutes.

Becca sighs and there’s something in that makes Clarke watch the woman. She leans forward, and there’s an honest concern in her gaze.

“You’re shutting me out again, Clarke. This only works if you try to keep the communication open between us.”

Clarke frowns because she knows her therapist is right but it’s a struggle today. Some days everything is a struggle, and it’s just easier when she can get a hug and go back to what she was doing and just keep moving forward. Therapy feels like sitting still. She doesn’t feel like she’s made any progress in this room even though she knows she’s doing better than she was the day Raven sat with her on the couch.

All she wants is to get through the next week without anything exploding.

“One more question and then why don’t we call it a day, okay?”

Clarke nods assent.

“How are you feeling about facing the holidays next week?”

Clarke breathes out and drops her feet to the ground, leaning forward against her thighs. Words start pouring out before she can stop them. “Like I have so much to do. We’re going to Raven’s parents’ place, my mom wants to do something, we wanted to do something just the four of us, and then there’s a Christmas party we’re throwing for our friends, and Lexa’s got her plans with her sister, which may or may not include all of us this year.” Clarke straightens up. “It’s just a lot.”

“And the four of you still aren’t telling anyone you’re together?”

“We told my mom that Raven is with us now, because she already knew about Lexa. And Raven says her family will be fine with her having multiple partners… but we haven’t decided about our friends. Two of them already know, but the rest, well, they haven’t been told. I think at least one of them suspects though.”

“How are you feeling about continuing to hide the relationship? I thought that Lexa got a new job, and that was the condition.”

A small buzzer sounds. It’s a soft tinkling of chimes that indicates Clarke’s sixty minutes are up.

Becca smiles softly, “Next time then, you can tell me how it went.”

“Yeah.” Clarke makes her way to standing not sure how she feels about any of it and shrugs on her jacket. Sometimes therapy leaves her with more questions than answers.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven plugs in the last of the lights to the little arduino motherboard and sets about checking the connections. If she’s hooked everything up, and she’s certain she has, when she flips the switch the Christmas lights on the tree, and around the living room will now be controlled by the script she put together. It’s simple, color spectrum shifts, gradual fading in and out, basically it turns their living room into a comforting cocoon of softly pulsating rainbow light.

She should have been done an hour ago, but she wanted to wait for everyone to be upstairs before she made the switch so it would be a surprise in the morning, and there had been a lot of lights that needed to be switched out.

Grabbing her laptop she plugs it back into the arduino board and double checks that everything seems to be in working order. She had to reroute all the lights through a single circuit, but now that they’re all LED lights, and the arduino board hardly takes any power it shouldn’t be an issue. A typical twenty amp circuit should be able to handle it just fine, even if it’s an older fifteen amp circuit there should be more than enough power.

She hears footsteps above her just as she reaches for the switch and pauses.

“Raven?” Clarke calls from the top of the steps.

“Yeah?”

“You coming to bed soon?”

“In a minute, I just need to get a couple things put away.” Raven’s hand overs over the switch until she hears Clarke walk back across to the bedroom.

Flick.

There’s a loud pop and the entire house goes dark.

“Shit.” Raven says emphatically.

Silence settles around the house as the electrical appliances turn off. Raven taps her fingers against her leg and tries to remember if she knows where the fuse box is located. Nope.

Lexa’s voice pierces through the silence calling Raven’s name.

“Yeah that was… my bad.” She calls back. “Where’s the fuse box?”

There’s silence then three sets of footsteps moving toward the staircase followed by a lot of bumping and cursing. Raven sets about plugging the lights into a separate outlet, one she’s almost certain is on a different circuit.

“Just put your hands out against the walls guys, it’s a straight hallway.” Lexa says just loud enough that Raven can make out the words.

Raven falls back against the floor laughing.

“Your phones all have flashlights!” She calls out.

A bright white glow flicks on in the stairwell.

Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia move into the livingroom in a pack and collapse onto the couch. Clarke instantly curls into Octavia. Lexa props her phone so it sheds light but isn’t actively blinding any of them.

“What did you do?”

“Blew a fuse, or just tripped a breaker, probably the latter.” Raven shrugs and grins up at Lexa. “No big deal, just need to find the box and flip the switch and the power should come back on. I doubt I knocked it out for the entire block. We do need to have an electrician in to look at the wiring for this circuit though.”

“Okay, yeah, but how?” Octavia yawns.

Raven rolls over and sits up, moving on her knees toward the couch. She leans her head against Octavia’s thigh. “That’d spoil the surprise.” She grins and even Lexa rolls her eyes and bites back a smile. “So… fuse box?”

Clarke cracks one eye open “We could just go to sleep, we’d have the lights off anyway.” She pouts, having been half asleep already when the lights went off.

“Yes but they’ll still be off in the morning.” Lexa groans.

“Yeah, but the sun will be up.” Clarke counters.

Octavia nudges Clarke up to sitting, “And all the ice cream will have melted.”

“So where do fuse boxes usually hang out?” Clarke rubs at her face sleepily.

“Have any of you even been in the garage since you moved in?” Raven asks. She pushes up on the couch and gets her feet under her once again, stretching out her low back as she does. The older she gets the more sitting in one position for too long hurts.

“Not really,” Lexa responds. “We haven’t had much of a need. I park my car in there sometimes when the weather is particularly bad.”

“Right,” Raven shakes her head and wonders how the three of them have gotten through a year of homeownership without any major disasters. “That’s usually where the fuse box is.”

Raven grabs Lexa’s phone and makes her way to the garage. It only takes a few minutes for her to locate the silver grey box on the wall and flip the breakers back into the right position. The house comes back to life with a hum, and an exclamation from one of her girlfriends.

“This is gay, Raven.”

“So are you!”

##  _______________________________________

Lexa’s only switched on the ‘gay womb’ lights, as Octavia had dubbed them, and opened all the curtains, but it’s enough light to see by to cook breakfast. Everyone else is still upstairs, fast asleep and she’s taking her time with food prep.

It’s rare any of them get significant alone time unless they make an effort to take it and sometimes Lexa just needs to be in the quiet and the almost dark alone with her thoughts.

Tonight they’re going with Raven to see her family.

Lexa stretches her neck from side to side as she cuts up fruit. Raven has insisted that it will be fine and she’s trying to let herself believe that. She has no reason not to. Not that the uncertainty in the pit of her stomach listens to reason. It’s the edge of the same fear that made her run from Clarke and Octavia when they asked her to move in. The last thing she wants is to ruin this relationship.

She doesn’t want it to end.

She just wants it to be.

The world isn’t always a kind place but within these four walls they’re safe, who they are and who they love doesn’t matter. Then there’s their friends and family that know, none of them are worried beyond  _ are they happy _ ? And they are.

Lexa hates having to pull away, she misses holding someone’s hand as she walks downtown, casually touching as they go through their daily lives out in the world. Worse still is when they’re out with friends and it feels like they’re hiding a part of themselves. It twists in her gut and curls around her heart, an undeniable plague that eats at the edges of their stability.

They fight for every moment on steady ground knowing that most of the world would forever look down on them.

She starts making toast as she begins scrambling eggs, kale and sausages already sautéeing. Lexa makes quick work of the last of the cooking, falling into the comforting rhythm of it while her heart feels raw and open in her chest.

If she could just get herself to stand up beside her girls and face the world maybe it would be okay, but she’s too afraid of what they have to lose.

Lexa shakes her head because this line of introspection is leading her in circles. This is a step they need to take. Family first, then their friends. 

She hears the footsteps, soft socked feet on hardwood just before Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa’s waist. Clarke presses a kiss just between Lexa’s shoulder blades and leans against her.

“You weren’t in bed,” Clarke says sleepily.

Lexa moves the eggs off the heat and turns off the stove before twisting and wrapping her arm around Clarke to pull her against her front. She kisses her forehead. “I thought I’d make us breakfast.”

“It smells good,” Clarke nuzzles her face against Lexa’s neck. “Is everything okay? You just seem down these past few days.”

Lexa presses her nose, now cold, against Clarke’s sleep warmed neck. The comfort of it wraps around her and she wants to stay like this. She can feel Clarke’s heartbeat through their thin cotton shirts and let it’s a slow steady beat that calms her. Lexa sways gently side to side.

Clarke trails her fingers up and down Lexa’s spine slowly. She’s still half asleep and she had come downstairs planning to bring Lexa back up with her and into bed so they could all be sleepy together. Not that she minds this quiet moment.

Somewhere in the past couple of months she’s started appreciating the moments where the world stills around her and she has one of her girls in her arms. There’s something about being wrapped up in their arms that quiets her head and she doesn’t need to know anything beyond how soft their skin feels beneath her cheek, or the rhythm of the heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of their chest as they breathe. Clarke could lose herself in a quiet moment like that.

Clarke walks them across the kitchen slowly to the large archway that leads to the living room. She pauses underneath it.

Lexa mumbles something about how they should get the food if they’re going upstairs.

Clarke nudges Lexa’s cheek with her nose, “Look up.”

Lexa straightens up and rolls her head back with a yawn. Clarke’s sleepiness is rubbing off on her. She blinks to focus her eyes in the dim softly shifting rainbow light. Above them, taped to the ceiling, is a sprig of mistletoe.

“Who put that there?”

“Give you one guess.” Clarke says squeezing Lexa.

“Actually Raven and Octavia are equally as likely to insist on mistletoe kisses no matter who you pass under it with.” Lexa arches an eyebrow as she meets Clarke’s gaze and grin.

“Yeah but which one of them would tape it to the ceiling?”

“Right,” Lexa laughs. “When did Octavia put it up? We all went to bed together.”

“You aren’t the only one that got out of bed early this morning.” Clarke kisses the corner of Lexa’s mouth. “So, are you going to honor the tradition?”

“By all accounts I think you just satisfied it.”

Clarke juts out her bottom lip and looks up at Lexa in her best impression of a puppy. “Well, I’m not satisfied.”

Lexa grins and brushes her nose against Clarke’s, “Is that so?”

Clarke hums ascent and tilts her chin to kiss Lexa but Lexa pulls back just enough that she misses. A low whine escapes Clarke’s throat and Lexa gives in, kissing her softly while the lights shift colors around them. 

“Happy Christmas Eve,” Lexa whispers as she pulls back. “How about we go wake up our girls.”

Two trays of food and some expert balancing gets them upstairs with the small feast.

Octavia and Raven have migrated from their normal spots on the edges of the bed to the middle. Octavia half lost underneath the comforter, pressed up against Raven’s stomach as she is. Her dark hair spills out across the bed in front of Raven.

Raven stirs and kisses the top of Octavia’s head before wriggling down into the warmth of the comforter and her girlfriend’s arms.

Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa from behind. “I don’t want to wake them, but I also want to wake them,” she whispers.

“O will probably be grumpy if we let the food get cold.” Lexa says with a soft laugh.

With a quick kiss to Lexa’s shoulder Clarke jumps onto the bed just next to Octavia who squeals slightly. Raven rolls onto her back and blinks up at Clarke.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” Clarke exclaims, barely containing an accompanying giggle.

Raven glares up at Clarke, but her gaze is more tired than anything full of actual malice. She blinks a few times as if to ask why.

“Payback,” Clarke laughs.

Raven rolls her eyes and nods her head, “Fair, I suppose.”

Grinning, Clarke leans down and kisses Raven.

“Clarke?” Octavia’s voice is muffled by the sheets.

Clarke pats Octavia gently as she continues to kiss Raven.

“I… you’re on the sheets… and I’m kind of… trapped...” the muffled half plea comes up through the bedsheets. 

The laughter that follows is loud and raucous and pure, and does nothing to help free Octavia. If there’s more mornings like this in her future Lexa knows they’ll be okay, no matter what happens.

##  _______________________________________

Octavia and Clarke took the dishes downstairs to clean up, Raven calling after them that she’ll be down to help in a few minutes, but instead of getting up she’s lain back down on the floor. She’s sleepy and content and full and doesn’t want to move, if she could lay here forever wrapped up in this feeling she would. 

Her mind is quiet, a blissful quiet she rarely finds, her thoughts hazy and peaceful, a fluffy fleece blanket cradling her brain. The only reasons she has for this are her girls, laughing and kissing and loving and just being. Together they’re moving together forward and it feels real. Some days it’s terrifying being loved, but Raven can’t let herself go back to before.

She’ll face the fear of losing love over not loving herself every day if that’s what it means.

Raven tugs the blanket they had pulled to the floor around herself with a smile on her lips and sighs contentedly. She feels Lexa watching but doesn’t open her eyes. She reaches up one hand and Lexa takes it, making to help Raven to her feet, Raven tugs back and glee bubbles in her chest as she feels Lexa fall lightly next to her.

“I think Octavia wants to open presents this morning,” Lexa nuzzles Raven’s ear.

“Have her bring them up here,” Raven wraps her arms around Lexa, not intending to let her get back up.

Lexa nips at the edge of Raven’s jaw. “Let’s go downstairs and enjoy the gay Christmas lights.”

“That involves either walking or crutching and I don’t really feel like either.” Raven pouts, “I just want to stay in our room until we have to leave tonight. The world is good right here at the end of the bed.”

Lexa pats Raven’s side and moves so she’s kneeling above her. “I promise the world is good downstairs in the gay womb too.”

Raven rolls her eyes but she makes her way to standing, blanket wrapped around her like a cape, and glances around the room for her crutches. She curses softly when she realizes both pairs are likely downstairs. Before she can move Lexa is in front of her, thumb brushing along the crease that’s formed between Raven’s eyes.

“No frowning,” she whispers. “Come back to the soft happy place.” Lexa bites the inside of her lower lip as Raven looks at her.

She holds her breath as Raven wraps her arms around her neck and breathes out the word  _ up _ .

Raven comes into her arms all at once, she sits there delicately balanced on Lexa’s hips. Their lips meet in the gentlest of kisses.

“Take me there,” Raven intones softly against Lexa’s lips as she wraps the blanket around them both.

She makes her way through the hallway and down the stairs slowly, spending more time kissing and breathing in the girl in her arms than she does moving forward. Raven, and Clarke, and Octavia are her soft happy place.


	32. Whose Hand Do I Hold? part 2 | 6 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> portuguese translations at the end

Anya drove Lexa and Raven, Abby followed behind with Clarke and Octavia. 

It felt a bit like they were on a secret mission instead of heading across town to meet Raven’s family and celebrate Christmas. After breakfast Clarke, Octavia, Lexa, and Raven had curled up on the couch and talked over everything again. 

Coming out.

Not completely, but, partially. 

Small steps.

Nerves were running high, because there’s nothing easy about coming out, even when you know your family loves you. Even when you know the support will be there, coming out unlocks an uncontrollable fear, the constant what if they don’t love me the way I think they do. That was a battle each of the girls had fought a long time ago.

They slide out of cars, disentangling their closeness. It’s habit, even for Raven. She’s watched them do this dance for so long now that she didn’t have to learn the steps. They came to her like an old memory, halting and awkward but somewhere deep down in her muscle memory. This isn’t home and this isn’t Anya’s so they move apart from each other, holding breath in the space between each other as they pile dishes and presents in their arms.

Except there are moments where they remember that this is their trial run and they’re supposed to just be acting normal so they come back together, shoulders bumping, hands on backs, a kiss on the cheek.

The problem is they have so little practice at truly being out that there is no baseline.

Raven moves from Lexa to Octavia to Clarke and finally links arms with Anya as they arrive at the front door. Her stomach flip flops. She hasn’t eaten since breakfast and it’s late now. The sun long set and midnight fast approaching. Dinner, per tradition, is late on Christmas Eve, late enough so that when they finish they can wish each other Merry Christmas and fall asleep. Her stomach rumbles, and she isn’t sure if it’s the nerves or the hunger that have set it off.

She doesn’t know what she’s more nervous about, being out, bringing her girlfriends home, or coming home at all. She hasn’t thought about coming home as much as she should, what it means, that after all these years of being away, and running away from the heartache.

“You know,” Anya leans over and whispers as Raven knocks on the door. “I thought the point was to come out tonight, not to confuse the situation of who is dating whom.”

Raven untucks her arm from Anya’s, “I was nervous, and no one was–”

The front door is thrown open. Raven’s mother is standing there, she looks halfway between tears and joy and reprimanding Raven.

_ “Ô minha menina faz tanto tempo que não te vejo, você faz idéia do quanto me matou de saudades? Vem cá e dá um abraço na sua mãe.” _ She gestures for Raven to come and hug her all at once while chastising her for being gone for so long.

Raven pauses half a second more than she knows she should. Growing up her mother had always been there for her, never discredited Raven’s feelings, always pushed her to be better when she needed it. She let Raven go when Raven needed that too. Stepping forward means that she’s home and she has to face if she’s really accepted that Finn is gone and that home will never be like it used to be.

Raven wraps her arms around her mother and hides her face against her neck and holds back tears because it’s Christmas and there are five people behind her standing in the cold waiting to see what happens next and she can’t turn into a sobbing mess.

“ _ Oi mamãe _ ,” Raven whispers. They hug and Raven feels her resolve slipping away in the comfort and strength of her mother’s arms, and then, as if she understands Raven’s mother catches her by the shoulders and pushes her back. Raven catches a wink, and a look that she knows means  _ we’ll come back to this later _ .

“ _ E quem são elas? _ ” She exclaims excitedly as she turns toward the crowd on her doorstep.

_ “Nenhuma delas sabe português, menos a Lexa e o dela é horrível.” _ Raven reminds her mother that no everyone in the world speaks Portuguese. Behind her Lexa make a noise that’s somewhere between a huff and a laugh. 

“ _ Certo, certo. _ Come in everyone!” 

Raven follows her mother into the house. Her house. The house she grew up in. The house she hasn’t stepped foot in since Finn died. It hits her then. His death and the missing years and the women behind her that have given her the strength to face this. It squeezes around her heart and up into her throat, threatening to drive tears from her eyes. She can smell her  _ vovó’s _ cooking and that’s what brings back all her memories that she’d shoved into boxes in the dark corners of her mind and refused to open. 

She can just make out the kitchen table where she and Finn would hide and try to sneak chocolates when  _ vovó _ and mama would be baking. Or the fireplace where she tripped and cut her shin open on the brick, a scar she no longer has, but somehow she can still feel it. She can just make out where she carved her initials when she was seven and she can still hear her father’s voice ringing in her ears and remembers standing in her bedroom doorway because she wasn’t allowed to leave her room and technically the doorway was still  _ in  _ the room.

Closing her eyes she takes in a deep breath. It’s almost too much, but she’s here now. She’s home.

Her father’s hands wrap around her biceps and she looks up into his weathered face. His hair has greyed some, salt and pepper where it used to be black. Too many years have passed by. She wonders how different she looks to them.

_ “Tu preocupou sua mãe, viu?”  _ Raven’s father says nothing of himself, only that Raven’s mother worried.

“ _ Senti saudades suas também papai. _ ” Of course she knows she worried her mother, and her father, though he’ll never admit it. He doesn’t talk much, never has, but she knows the things he doesn’t say out loud. Her smile shakes. “I’m home now and I brought my girlfriends with me. I thought the family should meet everyone.”

“Partners? Like with you and Finn and Luna?”

Raven swallows and nods, “But they’re together as well.”

“You’ve just got so much love in you, don’t you kid?” He nods and turns toward the huddle of women still in the front entrance. Everyone paused after exchanging quick introductions with Raven’s mother. Anya and Abby stand to one side, Clarke, Lexa, and Octavia huddling close. Clarke reaches out fingertips grazing hands.

Raven can’t quite find her voice buried in the tears that are on the verge of spilling and the breath that won’t come. She nods instead and bites her lip as she looks at her girlfriends. Her heart swells and she knows that this is new and real, and she realizes she isn’t scared of it.

She swallows down her emotions and finds she can’t stop smiling as she calls to her grandmother to come out of the kitchen, “ _ Vovó vem cá rapidinho! _ ”

“ _ Essa voz é de quem eu acho que é? _ ” The voice that answers is older, but not frail, and full of a charming sarcasm.

“ _ Arrã _ .”

“ _ Ótimo eu tenho uma pilha de verduras enorme pra você picar aqui _ .” 

Lexa snorts, and tries to compose herself. Raven shoots her a glare as if to say, you can help chop vegetables too if you think it’s so funny.

“Why does everyone look like they’re about to cry?” Raven’s  _ vovó _ comes out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron.

“Because you’re grandaughter is here.” Raven’s mother gestures to where Raven’s standing, halfway between her father and her girlfriends.

“I have ears and eyes, and they may be old, but they still work.”

Raven laughs and the others do so nervously.

“Now are you going to introduce me before your dinner burns?”

Raven holds out her hand and Octavia moves to her first. She reaches out her other hand and Lexa takes it. Clarke raises an eyebrow and grins deviously; Raven whispers her name like a reproach. Clarke smirks and steps behind Raven wrapping her up in a hug that nearly squeezes out all the emotion she’s feeling. She leans back into Clarke and swallows down tears.

Even though she knows she’s supported by everyone in the room she can feel the held breath and trepidation surrounding her. Even somewhere they know they should be safe they’re waiting for something to go wrong. Someone to doubt them or show them anger or hatred.

It doesn’t come and Raven exhales.

“These are my girlfriends,” she gestures to each one in turn. “Octavia, Lexa, Clarke. These are my parents, Bea and Lucas, and  _ vovó _ , Evelyn.”

“Eva.” She corrects.

“And this is Anya, Lexa’s sister, and Abby, Clarke’s mom.”

Raven pauses waiting to see what happens next. She doesn’t quite know where they go from here. Bringing Finn home was never a question he had always been here. He knew where he went, and Luna had been glued to Raven’s side the one time she had been here because it had been right after the funeral and  _ no one _ knew what they were doing. There are hellos and too many people trying to be polite all at once.

Eva places her hands on her hips and fixes Raven with a look, “Now before dinner burns, Raven, Clarke, you two with me.”

“You don’t want Clarke-” Octavia starts.

“-I am not that bad in the kitchen-”

“Yes but this is Christmas dinner,” Raven turns and gives Clarke a chaste kiss. “Next year maybe.”

Clarke frowns, though it’s more of a pout and Octavia pulls her toward the living room.

Raven  grabs Lexa and hurries after Eva. At least if she’s cooking she won’t be thinking about Finn too much. She can just let herself fall back into the routine of being in her mother’s home. It doesn’t quite feel like hers so much anymore, even though it always will be. Time and distance and experience have given her a home that isn’t this one. It’s the three girls that reach for her when she needs strength, and their friends that love them unconditionally, willing to put them in their place when they’re out of line, and willing to hold them close when they need it.

Lexa feels a hand on her shoulder and turns to find Bea.

“I just want to borrow your girls and get to know them.” Bea winks at Raven.

Raven fixes her mom with a look, “ _ Mamãe _ …” She knows where this is going, anytime Raven would date anyone or bring a new friend home, it’s been so long since that happened. She must have been a teenager still the last time the interrogation happened. “They’re good ones, I promise.” She almost switches back into Portuguese but realizes it’d be futile, Lexa would probably understand anyway.

Abby has already made her way into the circle before anyone can move, Anya hovering a few paces behind. Abby rests her hand on Bea’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and me and the girls get to know each other a little bit.”

“And I’ll come help in the kitchen.” Anya adds.

Raven shifts her gaze from Abby to Anya and back, wondering if they had planned this or if they just got lucky.

Lexa frowns at her sister but lets Abby pull her toward the living room. 

“Divide and conquer, Lex,” Anya whispers, “Welcome to the family.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia had barely made it halfway to the couch when Lucas had gestured to her to follow him outside, pointing to the fireplace and indicating they needed wood. They’d only been there a few minutes and it was like they had been there before. Raven’s parents had barely even batted an eye at her showing up with three girlfriends, like it was normal.

It was refreshing for it to feel normal, for the panic in her heart to subside. If they were telling Bellamy, or her mother, wherever the woman had ended up, it wouldn’t be this easy or worry free. She tries not to let it beat her down, knowing that her own family isn’t as accepting as Raven’s, that they don’t love her in quite the same way. Instead she tries to focus on the good parts. 

The cold air nips at her skin, her jacket tucked securely into someone’s bedroom, as she follows Lucas out around the side of the house. She has a flash of memory, following Jake around the house and helping him out with things, sitting on a stool in the kitchen with Abby helping her cook, getting on Clarke’s case to help out because the holidays were for family and that meant that everyone pitched in. Clarke had never said anything, just gotten up and helped.

And now that they’re together and they’re four, and even though she’s only just met Raven’s parents she feels an echoing of that and feels for a moment that her relationship is normal. They came out to someone new and it was just accepted. 

It makes her giddy. They should have done this before. Their friends should know. 

Her heart flutters and settles at the thought, just being able to take one of their hands, or sit with them, or lean against them, or kiss their cheek and have it feel  _ normal _ again, instead of like she’s second guessing herself, _ is this okay?  _ Or stopping herself entirely.

How many times had she stopped herself from reaching for one of her girlfriend’s hands? Too many.

Octavia starts picking up pieces of wood from the pile, until she can’t grab any more without dropping what she has. Lucas stops her and sets another piece on top. There’s something in the way he looks at her that keeps her from starting back to the house right away, like he wants to ask her something. He’s been quiet mostly, warm smiles and handshakes, but Octavia feels that has more to do with him being quiet by nature than disapproving in any way.

“Raven is happy again?” He looks at her, meeting her eyes for the first time. She sees a bit of his daughter’s light there. The piercing gaze, the downturn of his mouth as he waits for an answer. She’s been gone, but her family knows these last few years haven’t been easy for her.

Octavia nods, “I believe she is.”

She’s watched Raven open up before them. Watched her help put them back together as she carefully came back to life. She can only imagine that Raven is happy. There’s too much light and laughter in her to not be.

“We’re really happy with her, even before we started dating, she was one of our closest friends. We want her to be happy, and safe, and she makes us feel that way.”

He smiles slowly and nods, looking her over like he’s sizing her up, debating on if he needs to ask anything else. She meets his eyes and doesn’t waver. There’s no staredown she can’t handle, especially when she knows she’s in the right.

“Good, then back inside before we freeze.” Lucas smiles and claps her on the shoulder before picking up a stack of kindling and heads toward the back door, leaving Octavia to hurry after wondering how she got stuck carrying all the firewood, but glad at least that she and Clarke and Lexa seem to have earned his approval.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke slides closer to Lexa as her mother sits down on the couch next to her, sliding close enough that they’re thighs press together, hip to knee, just because she can, but also because Raven’s mother is pouring them drinks and pulling a chair close and as much as she is glad that they’re out she isn’t really certain about meeting the parents.

They never talked about this part, the fact that coming out to Raven’s parents meant they were  _ meeting _ Raven’s parents. Her girlfriends meeting her mom was barely anything at all and Abby had known both Octavia and Raven prior to them becoming involved with Clarke. It was different.

This was an interrogation.

Lexa nudges Clarke with her elbow and Clarke looks down to see Lexa’s hand, palm up, as if she’s waiting for Clarke to take it. She wiggles her fingers. It’s rare that Lexa will be physically affectionate in front of anyone that hasn’t known about them for a long while. She’s reserved until they’re home alone. Even more so that the introductions, this moment, feels like coming out. Clarke slips her hand into Lexa’s, their fingers twining.

“What?” Lexa asks softly, mesmerized by the awe on Clarke’s face.

“It’s just… it hit me, what coming out means,” Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand; she can feel their heartbeats in the space between their palms. “What we’ve been keeping from ourselves.”

Bia is there before Lexa can reply that she knows, that she’s convinced herself she doesn’t need to be afraid this time, and with Clarke’s hand in hers she feels like maybe she can do this. If their families are on their side maybe one day she can trust the world not to turn its back on her.

She won’t have to second guess that those that call themselves her family will stick around.

“I thought you were all out,” Bia smiles as she talks and hands them mugs of mulled wine. “I hope you don’t mind that I did look the three of you up when Raven said she was bringing her girlfriends home.”

Lexa take a sip of the wine and prays it isn’t too hot to cover up her surprise. It isn’t and she takes a second sip. There’s only so much of a private person you can be when your work is constantly in the media. 

“Profiles on the two of you in the  _ Oregonian _ elluded to your being lesbians.”

Lexa looks to Clarke but she’s got a pleasant smile on her lips, “I’m bisexual, actually. Lexa’s a lesbian though.” It’s her art show voice, calm, collected, if it weren’t for the sweaty grip they shared on each other’s hands Lexa would think Clarke was actually calm. She wants this to go well as much as any of them and Clarke’s been fighting to get their relationship a secret, reeling in Octavia, and helping keep them balanced and focused. 

It’s time though that they stopped trying to hide. It wasn’t fair to them. Least of all Octavia and Raven who didn’t live with any part of their lives in the shadows. 

Having had a moment Lexa manages the same collected response. “We’ve all been  _ out _ , as it were for a long time, but we haven’t yet come out as polyamorous, not to more than a small handful of friends and family members.”

Abby takes a mug of mulled wine from Bia as she passes it over, “Three people, myself included, they doubled the number of people that know tonight.”

Bia winks at Abby, “Well, they won’t have to worry about us.”

Lexa has no idea what to expect to happen. She’s never had a mother to meet a girlfriend’s mother. The closest she’s had is Anya, back when they had a nuclear family of sorts she was a pre-teen and a moment like this was the farthest thing from her mind. Anya had never really been the kind to sit down and make small talk about Lexa and whoever she was trying to date. More often than not Anya would be trying not to be exasperated having to explain how she ended up legal guardian to someone six years younger than her, and that yes, she was in fact old enough to be someone’s legal guardian, and sidestepping other awkward questions about their past. It was better now that they could just say they were sisters and leave it at that.

Most people knew better than to question them on that, it fit in their narrative of normal and acceptable.

This though. This is something she’s entirely unfamiliar with and really hadn’t put much thought into until that very moment: parents meeting.

Abby had, over the past few years come to realize she had more children than she ever planned on having. Clarke was hers by blood, and Octavia hers by the sheer fact that tiny ten year old Octavia had shown up in their lives and simply never left, and Lexa… well she was family by proxy.

Still, Lexa’s heart clenches with something not altogether unfamiliar, but uncommon enough that it catches her by surprise to be affected by it, when Abby claims her.

“I’m glad to hear you’re with my girls. Clarke, and Lexa, and Octavia have been wonderful to me.” Abby smiles at Bia, like they’re speaking in some type of code that only mothers really understand.

Lexa knows she’s had a home and family for a long time. It was always her and Anya against the world. They could face anything, overcome anything the world threw at them. Opening up their lives and hearts these past few years it felt like a makeshift family of sorts was forming. Their friends, her girlfriends, they felt like what she always imagined family would be like. This though, this felt like the generational difference. Multiple generations accepting and bonding together, instead of just a handful of millennials fumbling together through life.

She leans against Clarke, settling down into the couch and leaning her head against her shoulder. Clarke brings their hands up to her mouth and kisses the back of Lexa’s.

Home takes on many forms, and Lexa realizes none of them are better than others, just different. Belonging is what matters.

##  _______________________________________

 

Eva wasted no time putting Raven and Anya to work in the kitchen. Raven can’t stop grinning behind Eva’s back because it’s been years and she’ll do all the chopping it takes to earn her place back. Neither her nor Anya are allowed on the stove side of the kitchen yet and that feels like a small victory. She isn’t being punished for her time away.

They make small talk, talking about Raven’s life and that she’s moved in with her girlfriends already. Eva commenting on the economic sense of having so many girlfriends to share the burden of the mortgage and utilities. Raven countering softly that fiscal responsibility wasn’t exactly their first thought when they got together and Eva making Raven’s face go hot and her ears tinge red when she pats her on the shoulder gently and comments how the sex is probably phenomenal.

Raven glares at Anya who’s hiding a smile with a stolen bite of pork from the platter. 

“Anya’s dating multiple partners as well, our friends Lincoln and Niylah.”

Eva turns around from where she’s minding the gravy on the stove and gestures with her spoon at Anya, “And why aren’t they here? And don’t take another morsel, I know you did.”

Raven swallows down a laugh and fixes her gaze on the cutting board so she doesn’t burst out laughing and turn her  _ vovo’s _ attention back on herself.

“I didn’t realize the invitation would extend to them as well.” Anya says evenly.

“You’re Lexa’s sister, Lexa is Raven’s girlfriend, they’re your partners. They should be here because it’s Christmas.”

Anya swallows down a look of surprise and guilt, “I’ll make sure they are next time.”

“Good,” Eva says sternly but she’s smiling when she turns back to the stove.

Anya smacks Raven lightly with the back of her hand. Raven grins and shrugs as she looks up at Anya’s look that’s clearly saying,  _ how dare you throw me under the bus, and also, how dare you not warn me _ .

“What do you do for a living, Anya?”

“I’m a clothing designer. I own Ogeda Fashions.” There’s a hint of pride in her voice.

Raven shakes her head slightly.

“A seamstress then?” Eva seems to say more to herself than anything. “That’s a solid profession.” 

Anya open her mouth to reply that she runs a multi-million dollar business, Raven knows, she knows the story and the pride well, and it’s earned. She also knows Eva. Raven shakes her head again and Anya seems to get the message.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Good, you can take good care of your family with something like Ogeda.”

Raven raises an eyebrow, not certain how her  _ vovó _ , who was never too interested in expensive fancy clothes seemed to know about the business Anya owns.

“You can be proud of something like that.” Eva continues as she bustles about the kitchen, seemingly oblivious to the effect her words have on Anya who looks as close to on the verge of tears as Raven has ever seen her.

Anya takes a deep breath and sets down her knife on the counter, pressing both her hands down as she breathes in. Raven watches as she closes her eyes and counts to three before shaking off whatever passed through her and getting back to work.

Raven nudges Anya with her elbow, “You alright?”

Anya nods and blinks, “Yeah, yeah...I am.”

“You sure about that?”

“Shut it, Reyes, and finish slicing those apples before your vovo gets back over here.” Anya orders but there’s a small smile on her lips.

Raven wonders if Anya’s ever felt like she had a family, of course she and Lexa were everything to each other growing up, but had Anya ever wanted more, wanted parents and cousins and family friends and all the chaos that came with it?

“Anya…” Raven ventures, “When was the last time you celebrated Christmas with a family? More than just you and Lexa?”

For a moment Raven thinks Anya won’t answer, she’s ready to change topics, because she knows she’s prying.

“Last year Abby invited me over for breakfast on Christmas morning, but before that, I suppose it would have been the Woods… Costia’s family never invited us over, and then moved after the girls finished high school.” Anya shrugs like it’s no big deal, her tone sounds bored but she doesn’t look Raven in the eyes, doesn’t make a joke, and Raven knows there’s something about it that bothers her.

“You made a pretty amazing family for Lexa all by yourself,” Raven prods gently. “I may be a bit biased but I think she came out alright.”

Anya rolls her eyes, “Half the time I can’t figure out who raised whom.”

“You raised your sister?” Eva crosses back over the kitchen and sets herself up between Raven and Anya.

Raven mouths sorry to Anya.

“I can see you,” Eva taps Raven on the back of the head. “I’m old, not blind.”

“Sorry.”

Eva turns back to Anya, “You’re the same age as them.”

“Six years older than Lexa, give or take a few months,” Anya keeps her gaze fixed on the cutting board.

“Same age, you’re all young.” Eva starts arranging the apples in the baking dish but stops after she’s done half a layer as if she’s had a thought, “You two finish this, I’m going to go put my feet up for a few minutes because I’m old.” She winks at the girls, pulling Anya into a one armed hug, then kissing Raven on the top of her head.

Raven watches her  _ vovó _ totter out of the kitchen, and looks to Anya biting back a laugh. Anya shakes her head. For a moment, nothing, then they both burst out laughing, quietly though, because they don’t want her to come back in and tell them to do something else, or tell them off for laughing at their elders.

“Welcome to the family?” Raven says when she can breathe normally again.

Anya rolls her eyes and tosses an apple slice at Raven, who tries to catch it in her mouth, and nearly succeeds, sending them into a fit of giggles.

##  _______________________________________

 

They’re halfway through dinner when Bia corners Raven by switching seats with Octavia while Lexa is deep in conversation with Abby and Eva. It’s a calculated move leaving Raven with no choice but to talk to her mother about whatever is on her mind. Raven sets down her silverware and turns in her chair, knowing she won’t get another bite in peacefully until the stern look on her mother’s face has softened.

This is the conversation she’s been wanting to gloss over and move past, that she hoped by handing her mother a happy story and girlfriends and family they could just move past the years since Finn’s death that she’s been avoiding home and giving up details about her life.

Bia frowns at Raven, it’s like that moment in a movie where everything slows down and it’s clear the worst is about to go down. Raven braces for impact.

“You shouldn’t have stayed away so long, you made me worry,” Bia frowns. Her back is rigid and proud. 

Raven bites the inside of her cheek and doesn’t look away. She won’t be guilted over this, not when she’s already struggled so much over her decision throughout the years. This wasn’t just about her family, this was about her trying to find out who she was. If she had come back before, without Finn, she would have given in and given up. Then with Wick, she couldn’t have come back. She could never have faced her family, too lost and scared and afraid and broken. It would be this but worse, because now at least she has her strength back, she has herself back.

“I know mama,” Raven pauses and takes a moment to sip at her water. “But that’s what happened, and I’d like to just move on instead of dwelling on the past.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t come home, year after year, you continued to push us out of your life.”

Raven drops her gaze, fixing it somewhere around her lap and her hands. She fiddles with the edge of her shirt. Any desire she had to eat drains out of her and she wishes she hadn’t finished her glass of wine already, or she’d packed her flask like she joked about so she could sneak off. 

“I couldn’t come back here without Finn… and then it had just been so long I didn’t feel like I could come back at all…” Raven says softly, not looking up. The fact that he isn’t here rolls over her, that he should be joking with her  _ vovó, _ and his mom should be watching football with her dad, and they should be sneaking chocolates and feeling sick with them before dinner is even ready. “Can we not talk about this at Christmas dinner?”

If they keep talking about Finn she’s going to lose her careful control, and she just wants today to go well, she doesn’t want to end up in tears.

“This is the first time you’ve really talked to me in years.” Bia reaches out for Raven’s hand, Raven flinches but she lets her take it. She hates that she let herself screw this up for so long and that she can’t tell her mother why. She doesn’t want to see the fear and pain in her mother’s eyes; she doesn’t want her father to go silent and stern and pretend not to cry. Instead she rubs her thumb across the back of her mother’s hand and notices that it’s more wrinkled than the last time she held it.

“Life was rough after Finn died,” she starts slowly, trying to pick her words carefully, “But I’m happy now,” she looks up, “Really happy.” She can’t stop the smile that tugs at her lips.

“I can see that, but why suffer alone this whole time?”

Raven can’t answer that. Not today. Maybe not ever.

“She’s not alone anymore, Mrs. Reyes.” Lexa leans over and rests her chin on Raven’s shoulder as she wraps her arms around her waist. She slides her hands into Raven’s so she’s holding her completely. Her heart pounds in her chest, afraid this this is the moment something falls apart. That if Raven’s parents don’t support them their lives will slowly unravel. She know it’s a ridiculous fear but it’s still there. She presses a kiss to Raven’s cheek. “Alone is something she never has to be again, not with us.”

“I still wish you would tell me why.”

“I know, mama.” Raven closes her eyes for a moment leaning into Lexa, comforting her just as much as she is being comforted. “One day maybe, but that’s not what is important now.”

Bia smiles sadly, “You’re right, you’re here now, and you brought me three new wonderful daughters who I expect to see regularly from now on.”

“Yes mama,” Raven murmurs softly.

“Of course, Mrs. Reyes.”

“You can call me Bia,” she winks. 

Lexa laughs, it’s the same wink that Raven has, the one that gives you the impression you’re colluding on something and that maybe everything will be okay after all.

##  _______________________________________

 

Dinner was a veritable feast, complete with a whole pork shoulder and a ham cooked with pineapple and more kinds of rice and veggies and fruit than nine people actually needed. It was glorious and extravagant and kept them seated at the table, picking at their plates and talking long after they were all full. Then came more fruit dishes and dessert and more mulled wine. The conversation shifted between them all effortlessly, either everyone was on their best behavior or they all honestly got along, either way, the night was going better than the girls had hoped. 

Raven falls back onto the couch with a small grunt of pain as she lands. Her leg is tired which means her hip has a hollow ache, which means her low back is tight. She closes her eyes and reaches for the mulled wine she had set down before she collapsed into the overly familiar couch. It’s nearly midnight, which means it’s nearly time for presents and the drive back across town, and bed. She sips at the warm liquid. It only makes her want to sleep more.

Clarke and Anya are helping her papa with dishes, Octavia and Eva are setting up for the Secret Santa exchange, and Lexa is deep in conversation with her mama about legal rights for various minorities. Abby is reclined on the couch next to Raven.

Glancing over at Clarke’s mom she sees that her eyes are closed, and her breathing is slow and even. She reaches out and nudges Abby in the arm. “Not falling asleep before we get to the presents now, are you?”

Abby opens one eye slowly and raises a questioning eyebrow at Raven, “There’s a reason why I usually do breakfast on Christmas Day-”

“-which I’m very much looking forward to.”

Abby laughs and it sounds a lot like Clarke’s laugh, carefree and bright. “How are you holding up? I noticed you were trying to stretch out your low back earlier.”

“Take the night off, Abby,” Raven teases. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure about that?” Abby sits up and tucks her knee up under her so she can face Raven as they talk.

Raven resists rolling her eyes because she is in more pain than normal, but this is just her reality now. There isn’t really much she can do, especially not before her new prosthetic socket gets back from the manufacturers. She digs her thumb into her IT band as she thinks of what to say. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Clarke mentioned you were getting fitted for a new prosthetic? How’s that going?”

“Waiting for it to get in. I can make do with the ones I have for now, adding in some bulk with a few different socks, but, aside from keeping off my feet– which isn’t really an option, I don’t have much else I can do but put up with it.” Raven shrugs, she knows Abby means well.

“I’m sorry,” Abby reaches out for Raven’s hand and she lets her take it. “I know you know how to take care of this– and it’s clear you’ve done a remarkable job. I’m just a mother, I worry about my kids.”

Raven squeezes Abby’s hand because she isn’t quite sure how to respond, or how she feels. Tonight has been an influx of emotions that she never expected. That they’ve come so far in the past two months since Clarke’s birthday that Lexa is finally opening up, that she’s clearly still nervous, but allowing herself to push through it. Clarke is more stable than she’s been since before last summer, and Octavia… she’s having far more good days than bad and still somehow managing to grow. So tonight feels like a culmination of that.

They didn’t hide their relationship, instead opting to take comfort in each other, enjoying the company around them without being afraid. It wasn’t that this was the first time they allowed themselves this, though, usually it’s just Anya, and even then, Lexa is reserved. Everything about tonight has wrapped around Raven’s heart.

Not to mention being home, it’s been years, and in some ways it feels like she never left, in others it feels like she was going for an entire lifetime. There are things now that her parents don’t know about her life and she doesn’t know how to tell them. How does she tell them about what happened with Wick? She had mentioned him here and there over the phone, but no one in her family knows what he did. Abby though, knows bits and pieces of the story, things that came out in trying to explain what was happening and why Raven was around or why everyone was so tense.

So Abby knew, and Abby’s here, accepting Raven as one of her own, and while it makes her feel loved and full of joy, she feels guilt too, that someone else’s mother knows more about her life than her own.

Raven shifts and lays down on the couch, resting her head in Abby’s lap. She breathes in, fighting back tears. It’s late, and she’s tired, and the food and the wine have made her soft and she’s afraid it’s a losing battle. She welcomes the feeling of Abby’s fingers running through her hair.

Family is messy but there’s beauty in the mess.

She closes her eyes and rests knowing that soon she’ll have to sit back up, and her back will protest. The couch sinks next to her and Abby whispers to whoever it was that Raven’s back is acting up. Cold hands slide up under her shirt along her low back, fingers digging into the knots. Raven doesn’t need to open her eyes to know it’s Clarke.

She lets the touch lull her into a half asleep state. Today has been good, and that’s all she needs tonight. She has her girlfriends, and she has her family, and it’s more than she ever imagined it would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations: 
> 
> “Ô minha menina faz tanto tempo que não te vejo, você faz idéia do quanto me matou de saudades? Vem cá e dá um abraço na sua mãe” - “My little girl! You’ve been gone for too long. Do you know what that did to me? Come here and hug your mother.” 
> 
> “Oi mamãe” - “Hello mama,”
> 
> “E quem são elas?” - “Now who is everyone?” 
> 
> “Nenhuma delas sabe português, menos a Lexa e o dela é horrível.” - “None of them really speak portuguese except Lexa and she’s terrible at it.” 
> 
> “Certo, certo” - “Right, of course. 
> 
> “Tu preocupou sua mãe, viu?” - “You worried your mother.”
> 
> “Senti saudades suas também papai” - “I missed you, too, papa.” 
> 
> “Vovó vem cá rapidinho!” - “Grandma! Come out here for a second!”
> 
> “Essa voz é de quem eu acho que é?” - “Is that who I think it is?” 
> 
> “Arrã” - “Yes.”
> 
> “Ótimo eu tenho uma pilha de verduras enorme pra você picar aqui” - “Good I have a pile of vegetables for you to chop up.”


	33. Whose Hand Do I Hold? part 3 | 6 months ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays!  
> It's still the holiday season with the girls... magic timing continues to be magic...

Christmas day came and went and Clarke, Octavia, Lexa, and Raven found they survived coming out to their family, almost all of their family at any rate. They still had one sibling to tell, but they were waiting for their holiday party. Everyone else had taken it well, been happy for them.

It was like a weight was lifting off them, slowly buoying them upwards if only they let it.

They still haven’t decided how they want to tackle today having spent more of their energy elsewhere over the past few days. Namely recovering from a late night with Raven’s family followed by a morning at Abby’s. Their plans for an afternoon in bed had morphed into the four of them curled up on the couch with  _ A Muppets Christmas Carol _ on quietly on the TV.

Christmas movies and cuddling had morphed into full on passing out in front of the TV and waking at some point after midnight with limbs numb and neck muscles tweaked. After some muddled deliberation they had stumbled up the stairs and into their bed, leaving a trail of blankets and clothes in their wake.

The four of them had been asleep again almost before the lights were out and they were all tucked in bed.

The next morning they had woken up late with fewer hours than expected before their guests were supposed to arrive for the party. Who knew emotions could be so completely exhausting.

Occupied by a hurried cleaning of the downstairs, and a late start on cooking, they hadn’t yet really figured out the rest of their plan for coming out. Their friends had been combined into the agreement, and that meant they would make the attempt today.

“How do we want to do this?” Clarke asks, “Almost everyone knows, even if unofficially.”

“Lincoln and Anya know, we have five other guests.” Lexa points out.

“Maybe we avoid telling the others that Anya and Lincoln have known for ages. Mostly my brother, let’s not tell him that I didn’t tell him first.” Octavia swallows and tries to focus on putting the rest of the dishes away. She knows better than to drop something like this on Bellamy but she doesn’t want to do it alone.

“Do you think we should have told him first, separately from everyone else? Maybe sit him down…” Lexa reaches out and squeezes Octavia’s shoulder. Octavia wants to shrug off Lexa’s hand but she isn’t quite that angry with her, though she is still upset. If it hadn’t have been for Lexa’s insistence that they don’t tell  _ anyone _ about them they wouldn’t be in this predicament. She wouldn’t have spent the past few years second guessing her actions.

Octavia turns and takes Lexa’s hand off her shoulder, threading her fingers through Lexa’s and smiling sadly at her. She has so many things she wants to say and there’s no time. She also doesn’t want to fight now, and she’s worried everything she wants to say will just work to hurt, and not do them any good at all.

A small crease forms between Lexa’s eyes like she’s trying to suss out Octavia’s reaction. She doesn’t have time to ask though as there’s a knock on the front door and only a brief pause before it opens.

“Too late for that now.” Raven mutters and offers Lexa a quick smile.

Anya steps inside followed by Lincoln and Niylah, arms filled with dishes for the potluck that smell amazing. Lincoln and Niylah must have taken over the cooking which Anya had agreed she would oversee.

Octavia glances over her shoulder, “Are we doing this one on one or like tap a champagne glass and make an announcement?” she whispers.

“One by one? No champagne flutes,” Lexa murmurs. “Besides an announcement seems over the top.”

Raven fixes Lexa with a lascivious look and a smirk, “I dunno. I kinda want to shout it from the rooftops.”

“Shout what?” Lincoln asks.

Raven looks down and steps back from Lexa who nearly knocks over the drink tub she just set up between a couple of chairs. Octavia slides up next to Clarke and stares at Lexa. This is the moment. They either go forward or keep silent. Like with Raven’s parents maybe it’s best to just dive in. Lexa gives a small nod of her head.

“That the four of us are dating,” Raven grins as she says it. The smile breaks across her face like sunshine. She’s proud of her girlfriends and her relationship, and she knows their friends well enough to know that they’ll be nothing but happy for them. Even if Lincoln already knows, it’s something at least to tell him that they’re out now.

“Good,” Lincoln smiles and draws Raven into a hug. He picks her up off the ground and spins her around. She giggles and holds tightly onto him feeling light and free and full of joy. This is how the holidays should feel she thinks, surrounded by friends that love you unconditionally and loved ones that support you.

Lincoln sets Raven down and moves around the kitchen, first hugging each of the girls, spinning Octavia like he did Raven before prepping the dishes he brought for the table. The dinner is informal, a potluck, but it’s by no means small, and what’s arrived so far smells nearly as good as Raven’s vovo’s cooking on Christmas Eve had. 

Raven moves about the kitchen, finishing up the gravy while the turkey rests, golden brown and nearly ready to carve. Clarke’s been hovering for the past few hours waiting for a bite even before it was ready to be pulled from the oven. Now she moves behind Raven, her hands on Raven’s waist asking silently for a taste.

Anya wanders into the kitchen, opening the fridge and finding one of the several unopened bottles of champagne. She sets it on the kitchen table and starts rifling through cabinets looking for flutes.

“We don’t have any fancy glasses, well, not enough for all of us.” Clarke points to the box of disposable and biodegradable plates, glasses, and flatware sitting under the table ready to be set out.

Anya wrinkles her nose. “At least they aren’t red.” She kneels down to retrieve the box and sighs heavily when all she finds are tumblrs. “How do four of you live here and you don’t have enough place settings for a proper party?”

“We do…” Octavia starts.

“But none of them match,” Lexa adds.

“And I didn’t want to do the dishes.” Clarke finishes.

“I’m rescinding your Christmas presents and re-outfitting your kitchen.”

Lexa leans her chin on Anya’s shoulder, “We agreed, no expensive presents, and restocking our kitchen would qualify as expensive.”

Anya huffs but mutters something that might have been an agreement.

“What are we celebrating?” Niylah sets the bowl of roasted vegetables on the table and starts moving the contents into the chafing dish. “Aside from the holiday?”

Lexa straightens up and pauses for a moment. Anya had heard, or inferred from Lincoln’s exuberant hello, and both Lexa and Raven having talked her ear off about their own feelings about this argument. Lexa purses her lips. There’s actually a statistically sound chance that Niylah has figured them out already, that this is merely polite. She sets her shoulders back and knows she needs to be the one to say it– especially with Octavia watching her, frozen mid task, waiting to see if Lexa is going to keep her word. She swallows down the pain at the thought that she’s hurt Octavia that much.

Lexa reaches out for Octavia’s hand and pulls her into her arms so she’s cradled against Lexa’s front. “We’re celebrating us coming out… Octavia and Clarke and Raven and I are all in a relationship.”

Niylah’s smile is soft and there’s a sparkle in her eye that suggests she isn’t surprised at all, even as she feigns it. She’s too low key to be properly surprised as she steps forward catching Clarke up in a hug along with each of the girls in succession.

Lexa feels her body relax, muscles that were pinched tight, lengthening once more until she isn’t quite a complete bundle of nerves. She’s expecting a backlash, that the universe is going to break apart what she has just because she’s happy again. That if she’s too happy or has too much, if things seem like they’re going too well, any shift to the status quo could send it toppling like a stack of unwieldy jenga blocks.

She holds onto Niylah a little tighter than she normally would. Lexa isn’t as close to her as the others are, but in that moment she wants to make sure her gratitude is understood. 

The conversation turns to organizing the food table and drinks, and actually making a proper toast now that everyone has a glass of champagne. A few words are said and seven glasses are hoisted in the air, clinked together though, being plastic, they lack the same satisfying sound, and tipped back, it’s bad luck not to drink after a toast. There are four and there are three and it doesn’t matter so much that this isn’t what society says they should be doing. They’re happy and this is the beginning of feeling normal.

And just like that what they are is normal, having realized they’ve always been normal, that it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. They’re safe with each other. That’s why they’re friends. That’s why they’re family. That’s why this is home.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke’s curled into the corner of the couch, her knees tucked up and a warm mug cupped in her hand balanced between the arm of the couch and her knee. Raven is sat so close she’s nearly in Clarke’s lap, nestled in so Clarke has no option but to wrap her arm around Raven and pull her closer. Not that Clarke minds. She rests her cheek against the side of Raven’s head and breathes in. There’s a hint of cinnamon that Raven always seems to have about her and then the pervasive scent of lavender that Clarke has brought into nearly every aspect of their lives. She nuzzles Raven’s hair, content and only half listening to the conversation taking place between Niylah and Raven.

She’s forgotten what it’s like to allow herself to relax in a social situation, having to remind herself that she doesn’t have to worry about how her actions are perceived. It’s a pleasant kind of shock.

As much as she understands that Lexa requested they keep quiet about their relationship out of a desire to keep them safe, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t have allowed themselves this. Their friends are a safe space, and they’re lucky enough that most of their family is as well.

Octavia walks up behind the couch with a mischievous look on her face.

“What are you up to?” Clarke asks softly as she tips her head back to look up at her other girlfriend.

Octavia brings her hand out from behind her back and dangles a sprig of mistletoe over her and Clarke’s heads. A slow smile spreads across Octavia’s face, her eyes crinkling with the sheer size of it. She leans over Clarke as Clarke reaches up to cup the back of her head and pulls her down. She doesn’t question it, just moves in for the kiss, gentle and chaste, and yet it still coils around Clarke’s heart and there’s a surge of joy at being able to do this.

She can so she does.

At home with their friends, they’ve found level ground. It isn’t some delicate balance of being together but keeping things hidden.

Clarke lets Octavia go and turns to Raven, tipping her chin with a finger so they’re looking at one another. Raven pauses mid sentence as she does, looking to Clarke then up, following Clarke’s gaze to the mistletoe above them.

Raven smiles and leans in to kiss Clarke. It’s a holiday tradition after all, she tells herself. Even with other people here she can kiss her girlfriend, which is as it should be. She wants to give into the kiss, show Clarke what coming out means to her but they’ll have time for that later. She breaks off the kiss and then dives back in to peck Clarke on the lips once more before she reaches up to tug Octavia down for a quick, messy kiss.

“Make sure you catch Lexa with this, also, us and Lexa. That needs to happen.” Raven whispers. Octavia kisses her forehead.

“Don’t worry,” she winks. “I’m like the fucking mistletoe fairy and no one is leaving this party unkissed.” 

Clarke snorts. Raven and Niylah burst out in laughter. Octavia gives a gallic shrug and grins.

“Do you have another one of those, oh bestower of kisses?” Niylah asks. There’s a hint of something  amused crossed with a bit of plotting in her voice.

Octavia twirls the branch between her fingers, “Just the one, it’s a lot of power to wield.”

“I’m going to need to borrow that in a little while then,” Niylah states like it isn’t even a question.

Octavia winks and wanders away to find her next victim.

“Being out looks good on you all. Like you’re disgustingly happy and it’s wonderful, I’m actually surprised you decided to keep it quiet as long as you did,” Niylah scoots forward so she’s just barely on the edge of the coffee table. She squeezes Clarke’s knee. “And you,” she swallows and brushes her thumb across Clarke’s knee, her mood shifting from gleeful to serious with a single breath. “You are starting to look and act like yourself again, and I’m really glad you’re doing better.”

Clarke covers Niylah’s hand with hers. They had never been really serious not in a way they knew would last. They loved each other, but would never have fallen in love, and everything that they knew of each other passes between them in that moment. Friendship and support and happiness and the other’s fortune.

Clarke breathes through the emotion that wells up inside her and tries not to smile too big, “I’m going to overlook the sappy nature of that comment and just say thank you.”

Niylah doesn’t let go of Clarke’s hand, “You are doing better, yeah?” 

It’s clear that Niylah didn’t miss Clarke’s downward spiral and subsequent recession from the social group. Or the way Clarke pulled away from her even though they had talked regularly. Only responding to texts sporadically. Clarke squeezes her hand reassuringly. She still has a lot of work to do, and friendships to rebuild. Though it seems she’s lucky in that some of her friends have forgiven her ignoring them.

Raven leans into Clarke and kisses her cheek, “She has a lot more good days than bad ones right now.”

Niylah smiles and sucks in a breath. She lets go of Clarke’s hand and pats Raven’s leg. “I’m glad.”

“Alright, now that we’ve been emotional about how we’re all happy about our relationships, because, let’s be honest, we’re not the only ones with heart eyes and wandering hands.” Clarke quips and straightens up.

“Speaking of heart eyes and wandering hands, I need to go talk to our girl,” Raven kisses Clarke’s cheek and unfolds herself before she stands up.

Niylah moves from the coffee table to the couch and leans against the back, knees curled up so she’s facing Clarke. She sips at her champagne and Clarke watches her. Niylah’s waiting, Clarke can tell by the way she leans her head against the couch, her eyes soft but focused. She’ll be silent until Clarke talks.

It feels like another lifetime when she first had that focus on her, late one Monday morning when she should have been in class, but she had cornered Niylah after work and they’d tumbled into her bed. They still really weren’t into asking each other questions about why quite yet. They were just into the being there if the other needed them and they could be.

The light in the window had been soft but it had felt like a summer afternoon and Clarke had squinted against it and groaned and Niylah had handed her water and pills and not said anything… she had just laid there, watching Clarke, waiting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Clarke says softly. “You’re my friend and I owe you better than that.”

“You had your reasons.” Niylah shrugs.

Clarke doesn’t miss the quick downturn of her mouth that she covers up with a smile, or the way she looks down to her left, and only meets Clarke’s eyes again when she’s decided on her reaction.

Reaching out Clarke takes Niylah’s glass and sets it aside before she takes her hands. “Anya knew, Lincoln knew… and I think you knew even though we didn’t tell you and you didn’t say. It wasn’t kind to put any of you in that position.”

“Thank you,” Niylah says softly. She grins suddenly and shoves Clarke in the knee. “Alright, enough of this being sappy, let’s go get some more celebratory champagne before all the bubbles dissipate.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia hops up onto the counter and slides behind Lexa and Raven as they’re chatting with Anya. They’re only just standing close enough to each other that their hands brush every so often. Octavia’s been watching Lexa dance around them since she made the announcement that the four of them were out. First she would be close, soft touches, holding onto them, and then the next moment she would pull back, putting a safe distance between them again.

Lexa is clearly struggling with coming out, and Octavia wants to show her that it’s okay.

She twirls the sprig of mistletoe in her hand before reaching up and holding it above Raven and Lexa. She winks at Anya who’s been warily keeping an eye on her since she came into the kitchen.

Now that they’re out to their friends she wants to enjoy it. She’s trying not to focus on that fact that it’s taken Raven pushing the issue for Lexa to budge at all. Maybe it’s just the timing, but it feels like all of her pleas and struggles have gone ignored. Octavia can’t help but worry that even though Lexa has agreed to this tonight, she’s going to double down on the secrecy of their relationship in the public eye.

Anya points to the mistletoe sprig and Lexa looks up. “Octavia,” she says softly like she can’t believe this is happening.

“What?” Octavia says innocently, swinging her legs and tapping her heels against the cabinets.

“We have company…” Lexa takes a step out of the direct line of the mistletoe as if that will exempt her from tradition and a mischievous girlfriend.

“And they all know,” Raven follows Lexa’s retreat and carefully unfolds Lexa’s arms only to wrap them around her own waist. “So, are you going to kiss me or do I need to grab one of our other girlfriends?”

Lexa looks up at the mistletoe and then down at the girl in her arms. Raven is looking at her like she’s amusing, that all this hiding has been for naught. Lexa knows it’s more than that though. That she’s afraid for their relationship to be public because she’s afraid of losing what they have.

That’s on her and she knows it.

Threading her fingers through Raven’s hair she pulls her in for a kiss. This is her choice, trusting that their friends are good people and their families will love them, and that they will be strong enough to make it through life’s rough spots. She only breaks the kiss when she hears Anya clear her throat.

Lexa looks to Anya, an eyebrow raised. Technically this is what Anya wants her to do, and she isn’t about to let her sister teasing her make her stop. It’s amazing how quickly she switches from uncertain about public displays of affection to wanting to prove her feelings through them no matter what. Anya’s gaze flicks to Octavia and Lexa takes the challenge.

Pecking Raven on the lips Lexa lets her go and turns to Octavia, settling between her legs, and tugging her to the edge of the counter. She’s already kissing her when she feels Octavia’s arms wrap around her, tentative and surprised. Lexa kisses Octavia softly, lips gently parting as she tries to make up for Octavia’s surprise, to apologize for the heartache that the surprise belays. It is clear, she had known Lexa would give in and kiss Raven, but she hadn’t expected to be kissed herself.

“Are you three done being...” Anya waves her hand dismissively half searching for exactly the right word but also indicating their current situation as explanation enough.

Lexa extracts herself from Octavia and grabs Anya, kissing her sister on the cheek. “Hush, you. They make me happy.”

Anya rolls her eyes and steps back. “I don’t know where you get it from.”

Raven snorts and pats Anya on the arm, “I saw you and Lincoln whispering and making heart eyes at each other earlier.”

A knock on the front door interrupts the banter. Lexa leans against the counter and Octavia rests her chin on top of Lexa’s head, her arms loose around her shoulders. The door opens a few moments after the knock and Jasper and Monty step tentatively into the house, their arms full of bottles.

“ _ Meus meninos _ !” Raven calls happily from the kitchen. 

Somewhere during the course of the last year they had become real friends that went beyond professor and research assistants. She makes her way to them, helping them carry what is clearly about to become jungle juice. “Welcome to the house, by the way I’m dating Lexa, Clarke,  _ and _ Octavia. Just so you know.”

“Is that why you moved?” Monty asks without missing a beat as he sets the punch bowl on the table.

Raven starts uncapping bottles, “One of the reasons.”

“So did your apartment actually flood?” Jasper grins as he asks.

Raven shoves him in the shoulder playfully, “Yes it did. It wasn’t just a cover for the queer.”

“Raven, no offense, but there’s no covering up your queer.”

Two sets of friends down, one to go.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa leans over and picks up her cup off the floor, they’ve moved on from champagne and onto a highly alcoholic punch that Monty and Jasper poured shortly after they walked through the door a few minutes ago. She can feel the edges of it making her head floaty and it feels a bit like feeling at peace, like this will be okay. Lexa chews on the edge of her cup and watches Niylah chatting with Raven. She had known, she knows Niylah won’t ever say it unless asked, but the way she had hugged Lexa said it all.

She runs her hands across the keys of the baby grand but doesn’t play. She knows if she keeps sitting her someone is going to ask her to play Christmas carols. It’s only a matter of time before Octavia comes back by and begs Clarke to sing while Lexa plays.

The party so far is quiet, and it’s nice. Earlier Clarke had her arm around Raven while they talked with Niylah and they had looked happy, like the weight of having to hide had been lifted and they were allowed to glow. Octavia had passed by Lexa more than once and held mistletoe over her head. That is until Niylah had stolen it and cornered Anya.

Lincoln sits down next to her and Lexa hands him her cup. He takes it and looks at her semi-skeptically.

“I can’t finish that. And don’t look at me like that, you kiss my sister on the regular, it’s not like–”

“Adopted sister,” Lincoln raises an eyebrow, “You don’t share DNA.” There’s a quiet laugh in his voice.

“Yeah, but I’ve had more of her germs than I’d like to think about,” Anya steps up behind Lexa and musses her hair, much to Lexa’s dismay.

“Anya!” she admonishes.

“I know, it’s a terrible burden I had to bear, you were a gross snotty kid at one point… and then there was the time that you threw up in my mouth.” Anya deadpans as she perches on Lincoln’s lap.

“And how old were you when that happened?” Lincoln asks.

Lexa rolls her eyes and lets out a heavy breath, “Six… or were  you talking about when I was twenty-two?”

“We’ve agreed to both forget about most of the things that happened that year.” Anya stretches out her tongue like she’s trying to get the memory of a bad taste out of her mouth.

“So what I’m getting from this is that it’s not weird if I drink this because ya’ll are practically the same person, microbially speaking.” Lincoln tips the cup to his lips and downs a swallow.

Lexa shrugs, “Mostly we just aren’t fussed.”

“How are you holding up?” Anya nudges Lexa with her knee.

Lexa looks down and thinks for a second that she shouldn’t have given Lincoln her drink. She wants it back because when she thinks too hard about what she and her girls are doing, coming out, it makes her heart grip. Even if it’s just her friends she’s afraid to change the parameters. She’s afraid of conflict.

It’s more than that though and she knows it. She just doesn’t want to face the ugly fears she has buried deep, much like the year she was twenty-two.

“They’re really happy we did this. Though Bellamy isn’t here yet and I’m a bit worried about his reaction.”

Lincoln taps Lexa with her cup by way of handing it back. “And what about you? Are you happy to be able to be out?”

“I– of course I’m happy to be by their side! I’m just concerned of other people’s reaction and that causing problems.” Lexa finishes softly. “How do you do it with Niylah?”

“We never hid.” Anya fixes Lexa with a stare that says she thinks Lexa really needs to stop doubling back on moving forward.

“I didn’t know about the three of you for months!” Lexa says, louder than she means to.

“You and the girls were a bit pre-occupied, and we were taking things slow at that point,” Lincoln explains. “Just because you didn’t see what was happening doesn’t mean it wasn’t happening out in the open when we felt comfortable to be public.”

“And you know the four of you haven’t been entirely subtle.” Anya steals Lexa’s cup and takes a drink. “Niylah’s been sitting on the truth since the three of you moved in together– though she’s never said as much, I can tell she’s been waiting for her  _ friends _ to tell her so she can be happy for you.”

Lexa’s throat feels tight and she can’t get herself to look at Anya or Lincoln. “Aren’t you worried about everyone’s reaction to you being polyamorous?”

“First off, fuck them,” Anya stands up and finishes Lexa’s drink. “Secondly, you aren’t as worried about that as you keep harping, so stop using it as an excuse.” She leans over and kisses Lexa on the top of her head. “Enough of this for today though. We’re celebrating and enjoying our friends and family and this home we’ve built for ourselves.”

Lexa looks up at Anya and knows her sister is right.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia plops down on Lexa’s lap and pouts. “Niylah’s absconded with the mistletoe.”

“You do realize you can still kiss us without it, right?” Lexa tries to keep a straight face but she can feel the smile radiate out anyway.

“Yeah,” Octavia sounds dejected. “But half the fun was making it so people had to kiss, like I had magical powers.”

Lexa presses her lips to Octavia’s shoulder and squeezes her gently. She finds herself resisting the urge to softly bite down on the bare flesh beneath her lips and wonders when she picked up that inclination from Clarke and Raven who both seemed to come pre-equipped with an oral fixation.

“I know from personal experience you possess the ability to get the three of us to do just about anything you want.” She rests her chin on Octavia’s shoulder. It feels strange and exciting to allow herself to do be like this again when she isn’t alone with her partners.

Octavia rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

A sharp knock on the door announces Bellamy and Gina’s arrival. Octavia jumps up from Lexa’s lap, immediately turning to lean against the oversized arm chair as if they were having a normal conversation and not tumbling toward wanting to sneak away upstairs.

She presses her hands to her knees and breathes around the pounding heart in her chest. It’s unexpected. Octavia tries to push the feeling down as she smiles up at her brother and crosses the room to say hello. He pulls her up in a hug and none of the comfort and warmth she expects from the gesture is there. Gina reaches for her next and all she can think about is if Bellamy has ever scared her the way he has Octavia. The last few times she’s seen him he’s been different, like he's trying to be himself again but doesn't quite fit into his skin any longer. 

“How was Christmas with your family?” Octavia pretends the thoughts in her head aren’t a litany of worry over what Bellamy nearly saw and what they’re about to tell him. The spot just above her temple starts to ache, and her brain starts to feel like it’s slowly melting.

Gina grins and reaches out for Octavia, “It was amazing, Bellamy managed to impress my dad and played football with my kid cousins.”

“I’ve got the bruises to show for it too,” Bellamy smiles ruefully as he runs a hand through his hair like he’s trying to hide that he enjoyed it.

“To be fair, they  _ are _ vicious.”

Octavia steps back and she can’t reconcile the man that her brother is with the one that’s been breathing down her neck since she can remember. He’s the brother that he used to be. She closes her eyes for half a second and breathes in through her nose. She almost wants to not come out just so she can let him be like this for a while longer.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Octavia asks. She needs to regroup for just a moment before the panic overwhelms her and right now she can’t think. Her thoughts sluggish like they’re wading through thick fog.

Bellamy and Gina echo affirmatives and Octavia hurries off, leaving the rest of the group to continue with the hellos while she pulls herself together.

##  _______________________________________

 

The kitchen is empty except for Raven and Octavia who are tangled up against the counter. Octavia had come to find something for her head before she grabbed drinks for Bellamy and Gina. Worried, Raven had followed. 

Raven has her arms wound around Octavia and her hands up under her shirt, trying to comfort her. Octavia’s forehead preses to Raven’s and she looks down, swaying back and forth. Every so often she tries to press closer to her girlfriend.

Raven kisses her cheek, “How’s your head?”

The shrug Octavia gives is a full body one. Sh lets her head fall to Raven’s shoulder. He head is light and she feels like she’s floating, and not in a good way. There’s an edge of pain creeping between her temples and she feels just to the left of out of control. This started happening after her accident, the doctors had said she would be dealing with the effects of the concussion for months. One moment she’ll be fine as fine can be and then it’s just too much… too much exertion whether physical or mental, and she’s not okay.

Today it’s mental.

Bellamy and Gina had arrived ten minutes ago and she froze. She couldn’t find the words to tell her brother about her relationship. She’s been itching for so long to blurt out the truth and now that she has permission all she can think about is the night Clarke came home with blood running down her face.

She gets what lexa’s been saying now, gets how easily the fear could consume her. She just needs to talk to her brother and then she can stop worrying.

“I’m going to drink some water and then talk to Bellamy… alone.” Octavia lifts her head up and smiles weakly at Raven.

“You,” Raven frowns slightly trying to hide amusement at Octavia attempting to rally. “Need to go lay down for a little bit.” 

Octavia really isn’t any good at operating at less than one hundred percent.

“Noooo,” Octavia presses against Raven’s shoulders but doesn’t actually pull away. “It’s Christmas, and I want to do this.” She leans forward and kisses Raven on the nose. “I have to trust that he’s going to be understanding,” she whispers.

Raven sees movement behind Octavia and tilts her head to see who it is. “I hope you’re right,” she replies softly.

Octavia turns quickly, regretting it as her head spins just a little bit more. There’s no keeping quiet now so she leans back into Raven and smiles as she feels Raven wrap her arms around her waist once more.

“Is everything okay...?” There’s an edge of confusion and anger in his voice.

“My head hurts. Raven is my girlfriend,” Octavia states simply.

A deep crease bisects Bellamy’s brow, “When did you break up with Clarke? How is she okay with this? Is this why Lexa was practically sitting in her lap?” He spits the questions out rapidfire and he doesn’t look to Octavia for an answer, stalking into the kitchen like he’s working himself up to get on the warpath.

“No, I didn’t.” Her words go unheard.

“She was cheating on you back when you moved in here and you told me she wasn’t. I swear if she hurt you– you didn’t cheat on her back…?” He’s caught between storming into the living room and going after Raven.

Octavia takes a few steps forward readying herself to jump in front of him should he decide on a direction. “I promise you, no one cheated on anyone. We’re all–”

“–I swear if I find out you’re protecting either of them after that kind of behavior….”

Octavia starts slowly backing toward the living room and their friends. Action is louder than words and right now her words are falling on unwilling ears.

“Is everything okay?” Lexa asks sweetly as she steps up behind Octavia, catching Octavia up in her arms. She whispers in Octavia’s ear, “We all heard everything.”

Raven slips past Bellamy and takes up her place next to Lexa as they back up further into the living room. It’s silent. The kind of silence that eats away at a person and drives them to break it no matter what the words are. Clarke comes up next to her girlfriends and turns slightly to nod at the rest of the group. She wraps her hands around Lexa’s bicep and leans her cheek against her shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy takes a long drink of his beer as he looks from Octavia to Raven to Lexa to Clarke.

“I never stopped dating Clarke when we  _ both _ started dating Lexa, and  _ all  _ of us are dating Raven.” Octavia takes a step toward her brother, unaware of her friends behind her watching with rapt attention. 

Neither Clarke nor Lexa nor Raven quite know where she’s going with this, all having thought that she had changed her mind about telling her brother in front of everyone. They were kind of playing tonight by ear and just rolling with it. And, they hadn’t really planned on anyone having an adverse response to their good news even though they feared one. It was easier to not contemplate what would happen if someone didn’t approve.

It was an oversight.

Octavia steps forward because she knows the look that’s on her brother’s face. He doesn’t understand. Things that he doesn’t understand tend to frustrate and upset him. Anything that she says needs to provide clarity so he calms down. She can feel herself slipping into her work mindset, talking down people so they don’t shoot. She never thought she’d have to use her training at home.

His pulse ticks in the vein that crosses over his right temple and his hands are clenched by his side. Bellamy’s voice fills the downstairs, “How are you all okay with this?”

Octavia flinches, her head still isn’t quite clear and she feels any hope she had crumble taking with it her energy to keep herself level headed about this. With her heart involved it’s almost impossible. “We’re in love. We’re adults. And we all share the same bed.”

Behind her she hears Raven choke back a laugh. A moment later an arm wraps around her waist and she feels Raven’s familiar form. Cinnamon and lavender soften the edges of the pain in her head.

That is for just a second until Bellamy continues his tirade. 

“What so you can just sleep with anyone and it’s okay? Cheat on each other?” He spits the words his mouth downturned and twisted. It’s an ugly slap of an accusation.

Lexa’s voice is a calm cold ice that crawls across Octavia’s brain, “Cheating implies that we aren’t honest with each other, which we are.”

“Besides our relationship is closed, not that it’s your business what happens in our sex lives because none of us are sleeping with you.” Octavia can feel Raven straighten up, and her shoulders square as she speaks. It’s a fierce pride.

Bellamy throws his hands up, “Stop.” He points at Raven, “Especially you, I thought we we’re friends” 

“—we are friends, Bellamy. ” Raven points out but her protest is drowned out by his rant.

“I don’t know what kind of bullshit you brainwashed my sister with, but this isn’t okay.” He takes a step toward Octavia like he might pull her away from Raven but Raven tightens her arms around her and steps backward just as Clarke and Lexa step closer, both reach out for their girlfriends. Clarke takes another step putting her slightly between the Blake siblings. Octavia feels her heart swell with love and pride for her girlfriends and their relationship.

“It isn’t them Bell, this is my choice as much as theirs.” Octavia fires back, her hands come up to protectively wrap around Raven’s arm.

Clarke steps up to Bellamy like she’s ready to square off with him and stares him down even though he’s several inches taller than her. “There is nothing wrong with our relationship. We enjoy it and it’s  _ good _ .” 

“It was bad enough when you started dating her,” Bellamy narrows his eyes at Clarke, disdain dripping from his words. His attention snaps to Octavia and he steps around Clarke as if she isn’t there, “But this is out of line. I’ve come to accept you being gay, but not being a degenerate.”

“Bi, Bellamy, I’m bisexual.” Octavia says like she has every other time her brother has called her gay or referred to her past as  _ when she was straight _ . The words never seem to sink in so she keeps saying them. She can’t wrap her head around the second half of his declaration. The cut is deep but she can’t quite feel it yet.

Clarke steps back next to the cluster of her girlfriends keeping herself slightly between them and Bellamy. Who his sister is supposedly allowed to date isn’t a fight she wants to have with him again, but she won’t back down either. She’d take another split eyebrow and black eye if it meant protecting Octavia.

Gina steps up next to Bellamy, following the press of the group as the argument becomes more heated. The room is a held breath waiting for the explosion they know will come. Time ticking by as the pressure builds. She glances toward the quartet, apologetic, before focusing on Bellamy. She leans into him, her hands wrapping around his bicep as she tries to take his focus away from the others. “Bell, if she’s happy what’s the problem?”

Bellamy turns to look at Gina, gently pulling himself out of her grasp. She lets him go but not without a small frown of confusion. He looks down at her, voice thick with emotion as if he’s pleading with her to understand, “She sleeps with three other women, regularly, thinking an orgy counts as lovemaking. They’ve fed her lies.”

“Our sex lives are  _ none _ of your business,” Clarke snaps, her voice a few decibels louder than normal. She’s got half a mind to kick him out for that comment alone. Five years ago she promised herself she wouldn’t let him get away with hurting them again. “You have no right to judge us.”

Gina reaches for Bellamy, eyes wide and edged with fear, just enough to see up close. Her voice is soft where everyone else’s has become harsh. “I think you’re missing the bigger picture here.”

“You used to be better than this,” Octavia can’t describe the disappointment echoing around in her head. For a moment she had felt like her brother had been back. Not just the wisps of him she had felt after her injury at work. Those thin evanescent tendrils had escaped her grasp, but for a few moments she had thought she had him again. 

Looking at him, her gut twists and she knows what she had seen was real, but it’s also gone. She wants to turn around in Raven’s arms and hide her face against her girlfriend’s neck, block out the light, and give her head a chance to stop throbbing. She doesn’t, refusing to let him beat her.

“I used to have a sister that had a little bit of sense in her head, but that’s clearly been knocked out.”

Lexa, Clarke, Lincoln, and Niylah all take a surging step forward, ready to defend their friendship and their relationships. It’s Anya that breaks the silence as she calmly walks toward Bellamy, putting herself between the room and Bellamy, effectively making him take a step back. She’s done giving him any sort of leeway. He’s pushed past the line of being reasonable.

“Is your sister safe? Is she happy? Is she healthy?  _ That’s _ what you should be worried about.” Anya talks slowly like she’s trying to reason with the unreasonable. “You shouldn’t be worrying about what those things look like or if they’re something  _ you _ would want for yourself. This isn’t about you, which you should know.” Anya takes a small step closer to Bellamy. She tilts her head to the side, her chin lifted leaving no room to question what she says. “As one older sibling who raised the younger to another, Octavia being bisexual and her being in love with more than one person, none of that is reason for concern.” Anya crosses her arms.

Bellamy takes a step so he’s nearly chest to chest with Anya. He’s got four inches on her but she doesn’t flinch and somehow manages to continue to stare him down.

“Listen,” he postures like he might shove her backward at any moment. “I don’t need a lecture about how to take care of my sister, considering it’s  _ your _ sister that started this nonsense with them, and all I see you do is sleep around, so some fucking influence you were.”

Anya raises an eyebrow at him like she can’t believe he’s for real because he just made a grave error.

Gina grabs Bellamy’s arm and pulls him back from Anya, forcing him to turn to face her, “Babe, you’re out of line. Like way fucking out of line.” Her normal bright bubbly voice is cold and quiet and deadly serious. She moves him back, ignoring the frown line creased between his eyes.

“What?” he snaps. Gina crosses her arms across her chest, the set of her mouth telling him his walking straight toward his own demise. “What?” he asks again, but this time softer as if any of the contempt and anger he’s wielded toward the rest of his friends couldn’t possibly extend to his girlfriend.

“You seem to think that anyone else’s sex life is your concern. It isn’t.” She tries to appeal to his logical side. “These are our friends, people we we trust and respect. They’re good people.”

“They’ve lost any respect or trust I had in them.” Bellamy shifts his weight. The press of bodies in the room silently pushing him toward the door. “Octavia, you and me need to have a serious talk, alone.”

“Actually, you don’t.” Niylah pushes into the conversation before Octavia can respond.

“This isn’t your business.”

“They’re my friends, so yeah, it is. And you aren’t listening, to  _ any _ of us.” Niylah moves to stand beside Anya, she looks back to Octavia and the others for a moment, warmth radiating from her. “I care about O, and let me tell you, because you clearly haven’t noticed, but she lights up around those three and they make each other better.”

Bellamy rubs his face, and his gaze drops to the ground. He circles, moving away from everyone, including Gina. He doesn’t turn back to them for a while. This the moment he could either open up his mind or close down entirely. Octavia doesn’t want him to turn away from her. This room is full of people she considers family, but he’s her brother. He kept her safe when she was a kid and she loves him. She misses him and she wants the brother she knew back. He’s been slipping farther away and maybe she’s been letting him, but this reaction is why she didn’t tell him until she thought they had the strength and the words to convince him. She doesn’t understand how Anya, Niylah, Lincoln, Monty, and Jasper can all accept them unconditionally but her own brother won’t open his eyes long enough to see what this relationship means to her.

Octavia reaches out and hooks her finger around Clarke’s belt loop and tugs her back gently. Clarke reaches for Lexa and brings her back, until the three of them are close enough to feel the other’s breath. Still, she wants them closer, but this will have to do for now.

“How?” Bellamy’s voice is quiet and rough barely an exhalation of air. Under it though is still an undercurrent of anger pulling him further away from understand and forgiveness from the group.

Lincoln reaches out and clasps his shoulder, trying to guide him back into the moment. “The same way you and Gina have been good for each other.” He pauses, waiting for Bellamy to focus on him. It takes a few moments but Bellamy gives him a small nod, as if some small part of what has been said to him is finally sinking in. “She puts up with your shit and helps you get through it and grow as a person, and you do the same for her, right?”

“Right,” he says it like it would be preposterous to think otherwise.

Gina’s crossed arms change from an annoyed posture to a protective one. Bellamy gives her a bewildered look that she doesn’t just jump to the defense of their relationship. 

Raven kisses the side of Octavia’s head and untangles herself from her partners, leaving Octavia with Lexa and Clarke as she steps out to stand next to Gina. She reaches out and squeezes the girl’s arm. They haven’t known each other long but Gina is quickly becoming one of their friends and is caught in a terrible spot between what she believes is right, and the man she’s been with for the past year. 

The group shifts, Anya next to Lexa, Niylah next to Gina. They’re friends and friends have each other’s backs.

“That’s what a relationship should strive towards, just instead of one person, they have three.” Niylah tries to move the conversation forward, in a positive direction instead of the back and forth fighting and name calling.

“How can you be defending this?” Bellamy sounds calmer but his movements are restless as if he can’t figure out how to react or what to do.

“Because I shouldn’t have to,” Niylah says, sounding like she’s just about at the end of her patience. “And since you’ve failed to notice, I’m dating Anya, and Anya is also dating Lincoln, just because a relationship isn’t a man and a woman doesn’t make it any less valid or real.”

“You’re all absolutely crazy,” Bellamy takes a long drink of the beer in his hand.

Octavia steps to the front of her group, he’s starting to waver she can feel it but she doesn’t know what that will mean when he does. “Bell, you know us. You know  _ me _ .” She reaches out and takes her brother’s hand, squeezing it, trying to reassure him that things are okay. “You’ve known us for a long time, why does it matter who we’re dating?” 

Bellamy yanks his hand out of Octavia’s. It’s that more than what he says next that breaks her heart. “No. I don’t know you, any of you.”

“You need to take a step back and think long and hard about what you’re saying and how exactly you’re hurting people you claim to care about.” Niylah snaps. Her voice is cold and unforgiving, in ways it rarely is. Octavia’s heard her be warmer to people she’s kicking out of her bar.

“I’m looking out for you all, this isn’t healthy!”

Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand and extracts herself from where she’s been pressed to her girlfriend’s side, too stunned to do much but watch her friend, someone she considered her brother once, continue to degrade her and her girlfriends. She takes a tentative step toward Bellamy trying to remind herself not to flinch. Aside from pulling away from Octavia he hasn’t done anything threatening.

“Bellamy,” Clarke says softly. “Maybe just go home, think about this and how you feel before you say anything else you regret because I’m afraid you’ll hurt one of us again.”

Bellamy turns on Clarke, like a wild creature that’s just realized he’s cornered. “What are you talking about?”

Clarke taps her eyebrow. She knows she doesn’t need to explain. It’s been a point of contention for half a decade, even if they try to avoid it.

“You know I don’t even remember doing that, I was drunk.” His voice softens, and the last few words are barely a whisper.

“Exactly,” Clarke flicks her forefinger against the neck of the beer bottle in his hand.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Clarke.” Bellamy lifts the bottle up to let the light shine through, “I haven’t even had half of this”

“I didn’t say you were drunk.”

“But I was when I hit you, we’ve been over this.”

Lexa ends her silence, words slicing through the air between her and Bellamy, “Then what was your excuse when you grabbed me and threatened me the day we moved in? You were sober then.”

Bellamy’s rage breaks. “You were… I was angry, and I thought Clarke was cheating with you on O.” He starts to take a sip of his beer and stops. “Listen, I know I’ve fucked up in the past… but you’re not actually scared of me? Are you?”

“Being drunk was the excuse mom’s boyfriend gave me when he broke my collarbone.” Octavia whispers. She hadn’t brought it up before, or maybe she had. Mostly she tries not to think too hard about much of her life at home growing up. Bellamy had been her saving grace, but even with him around he couldn’t always fix everything or keep her safe all the time. 

No one does anything more than breathe waiting for Bellamy to respond or apologize. Octavia doesn’t back down from glaring at her brother. He’s frozen except for his chest rising and falling. She can’t quite tell if he’s calming himself down or ramping up his anger. The last thing she wants to do is to let him walk away from this thinking that she accepts any part of what he’s said or done. 

This conversation should have happened a long time ago. Not that they should have come out, but that she should have confronted Bellamy about how they were often on edge around him because he couldn’t control his anger. She’s furious with him for becoming like the man they both hated and feared.

Bellamy looks away and turns for the door without acknowledging anyone. He sets down his beer and grabs his coat, not even bothering to put it on before he opens the front door, “Gina… we should go, can you take me home?”

He slams the door behind him.

It echoes throughout the house. Clarke and Raven flinch. The silence settles over them again waiting for one of them to break it. Someone to acknowledge that the last ten minutes just happened and wasn’t some sort of mass hallucination, or that someone can make sense of Bellamy’s reaction.

“I’m sorry…” Gina’s voice cracks.

“Don’t apologize for my brother, if he wants to do that he can do it himself.” Octavia steps away from the group as she speaks. She’s a storm breaking away from the calm silence that the others are settled in, cutting a path through the living room and down the back hallway to her gym space.

She slams the door behind her.

Gina jumps and wraps her arms around herself. She chews on the inside of her her cheek, as if she’s wary of breaking the silence again. Looking to Clarke she takes a deep breath, “I didn’t know he’d hit you,” she glances to Lexa, “Or threatened you…” She takes half a step forward and then takes half a step back as if she can’t decide what she wants to do. “He’s been talking lately about feeling angry all the time, even started going to therapy a few weeks ago.” No one moves to speak, they let her continue, not quite knowing what to say still, almost expecting to be asked to forgive him. Her voice is barely audible by the time she finishes. “Is this why we only see you all when everyone goes out?” 

Raven nods, “It’s been a few years of the Blake siblings being slightly estranged.”

With the end of Raven’s sentence silence blankets them all again.

“I should go before he starts wondering and gets angry with me.” Gina’s voice shakes as she reaches for her coat. 

“Do you want someone to come with you, so you don’t have to be alone with him?” Raven doesn’t want to see her go alone with Bellamy right now, not when she’s visibly shaken and uncertain. Not when it isn’t clear what state of mind he’ll be in.

“It’s okay… he’s never been angry… like that… not with me.” 

Lincoln squeezes Niylah’s arm and kisses Anya’s cheek as he moves to stand next to Gina by the front door and grabs his coat. “I can come with you, make sure you both get home okay. We’ll get him home first, and then I can take you where you want to go.”

Gina nods.

“You can leave your car here,” Lexa offers. “It’ll be fine in front of the house.”

“Thanks.” Her heart isn’t quite in the words or the quirky muscle spasm of a smile she offers up.

Lincoln and Gina slip out the front door in an awkward silence. 

There’s a crash that sound distinctly like hand weights hitting the floor.

“Who’s going to go check on Octavia?” Anya looks toward the back hallway.

“I’m going to check on her,” Clarke bites her lip. “If we don’t come back out before Lincoln comes to get you, I hope your night is better than this was.”

Niylah takes Clarke by the shoulders and shakes her gently, “The party was great until Bellamy happened, which was completely out of your control.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says softly. Raven hugs her from behind.

Every good feeling they had about coming out has been tainted by Bellamy’s tirade, at least for now. The air hangs around them thick with pain and uncertainty. What do they do now, where do they go from here… there are no easy answers, just a lot of questions and pain to work through. At least though, they’re together, they have equal ground, and home, they’re together in this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive the angst. I know the holiday season can be rough. I'm not ready with the next chapter this weekend or else I'd post that..... so in case you need a pick me up:  
> if you mixed it I posted some [pure holiday clexa fluff](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8896516).  
> also, I'll write some fluffy holliday ficlets this weekend if I get prompts. [So hit me up on tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/ask)


	34. Whose Hand Do I Hold? part 4 | 6 months ago

Clarke leans her forehead against the door to the gym which is almost always kept open. It’s a rarity when any of them feel the need to close it unless they’re really in the mood to blast music and someone else is downstairs. It’s even rarer still when the door is locked. The knob won’t turn under Clarke’s hand and she doesn’t want to go get the spare key kept in the kitchen unless Octavia refuses to open the door or come out. Not that she would move to go in right away, but if she started to worry.

Or worry more than she already is.

Even when Bellamy had given Clarke a black eye they’d all had time to process and react to one another, they had time to calm down before things were said in anger or fear. They were younger and more forgiving in some ways. Octavia also hadn’t been dealing with the fallout of a traumatic brain injury.

Clarke knocks on the door softly again. She can hear a rhythmic thwack of Octavia hitting the punching bag but no other noise. Octavia is clearly ignoring her. She calls out her girlfriend’s name hoping she’ll get a response but not really expecting one. The rate Octavia hits the punching bag at increases, only broken by the occasional kick.

“I’m going to sit out here until you let me in, or talk to me,” Clarke taps her forehead against the door. She hears Octavia grunt. At least she knows what she’s said has been heard.

She slides down to the floor and puts her back against the door. She can just make out Lexa and Raven talking with Niylah and Anya, but they’re keeping their voices down so as not to disturb Octavia. She could go back out to the living room and wait out Octavia with the others, or she could get the key, but neither feels right. She needs to see Octavia and talk to her, assess exactly how bad this is, because it’s bad. This is twisting around her gut more than getting hit by Bellamy did, that day she lost the person she thought of as a brother. If she gets the key she’s only going to make it all worse for Octavia.

At the end of the hallway Niylah had reaffixed the sprig of mistletoe to the opening. It dangles there a half-sad reminder of how well the day had been going, and how it should have ended. There should have been teasing and laughter, and there should have been a cease and desist put on the mistletoe. They should have sung carols and coerced Lexa into playing the piano for them. 

Clarke gets to her feet and walks to the end of the hallway. She reaches up and catches the branch between her fingertips and tugs it down. She has half of a plan, but really that’s all she needs. 

Back in front of the door she drops to her knees and shoves the sprig under the door and knocks again, calling out, “O, come on, please don’t shut me out like this.”

Footsteps indicate Octavia walking toward her, bare feet padding softly on wood flooring. “I don’t want to talk, Clarke.” Despite the protest she tugs the sprig of mistletoe out from underneath the door.

“What happened wasn’t okay.” Clarke leans back against the door determined to wait.

She doesn’t expect the door to open when it does and finds herself looking up at Octavia, dressed in nothing more than a sports bra and a pair of running shorts, from where she’s laying on the ground. Octavia drops the mistletoe on her face and turns to walk back across the room to the punching bag.

Octavia feels like her skin is on fire. Her holiday party clothes are in a pile on the floor and she’d rescued exercise clothes from the laundry basket they keep in the corner not wanting to face anyone at the party, afraid she’ll snap or say something equally as terrible as her brother did.

She punches the stand up bag as hard as she can over and over, only breaking it up with the occasional kick. Everything Bellamy said is branded into her mind and she can’t shake it. Not the fact that he called them degenerates or disgusting, that he clearly still felt something was wrong with her for being bisexual, not that he would ever use that term, instead erasing her sexuality by calling her gay or straight depending upon her attraction to someone.

His anger fed into her, burns through her. She feels worthless and abandoned. Her arms are heavy with the effort and energy she’s thrown into the punching bag. She feels Clarke’s eyes on her long before Clarke works her way into Octavia’s field of vision again. Her head is pounding and she feels like she needs to disengage but she’s afraid of what happens next.

Next means she has to face Clarke, and after that her other girlfriends. They have to talk about what Bellamy said and what that means for them moving forward. She has to process having potentially losing the last of her blood family. Really she and Clarke should have tried to work through things with Bellamy a long time ago instead of forgiving him and never looking back.

Clarke keeps creeping toward her like she’s a wild animal, easily startled. Maybe she is. She wanted more of a fight, once it got going, she wanted to have it out with Bellamy but everyone had tried to make him see reason and keep the situation from escalating. Even he had tried to rein himself in when all Octavia wanted was for him to lose it just enough so that she could lash out.

It’s terrible of her, and the desire for violence eats at her as much as her brother’s cruelty. 

Even though her head is pounding she doesn’t think she can blame the injury anymore, this isn’t a question of is this her or is this the injury. This is the part of her deep inside that scares her the part that reminds her of her mother and the boyfriend, the one that stuck around the longest. This is the person that she never wanted to become and she came so close to letting that out today, to letting the instinct and the impulse take over despite wanting to be kind and compassionate. Despite believing that she was a better person than them.

Octavia’s knees hit the floor and she winces in pain. It’s more of a reflex than anything. Her vision blurs and she doubles over, head to the floor just beyond her knees, trying to breathe around the panic rising inside her. She just wants to disappear and for this all to go away. Clarke’s touch nearly undoes her, tears in the corners of her eyes.

She lets Clarke tug her into her lap. She goes willingly, curling around Clarke, her face pressed against her stomach. It takes her a while to realize but she’s crying. Clarke runs her fingers through Octavia’s hair and Octavia loses track of time.

It’s still dark when she sits up, face puffy and snotty and red. Her head throbs with pressure and she doesn’t know if it’s the trauma flaring up or merely that she’s been crying for the good part of an hour at least.

Clarke leans forward to kiss her forehead and brushes her thumbs across Octavia’s cheeks. She can’t bring herself to do more than smile at her sadly, not sure where to start or what to say.

“We should get you some water and a shower and a bed full of cuddly girlfriends.” Clarke kisses her softly.

Octavia falls into it. She doesn’t have the energy to resist so she nods and wraps her arms around Clarke’s shoulders.

“I wasn’t supposed to lose him.” Her words break on Clarke’s shoulder.

“I know,” Clarke’s voice is barely a whisper.

Octavia chokes out the next few words around the despair eating at her heart, “But I couldn’t lose the three of you.”

“I know.”

“How could he do this?”

Clarke presses her face into Octavia’s hair and wishes she had answers. Her stomach feels heavy and queasy all at once. She knows she’ll never feel the extent of what Octavia is going through right now, but she feels like she lost family too, that this was just the last straw in a long drifting apart. Maybe they had forgiven him for the wrong reasons.

“I don’t know, O. I just hope he realizes how wrong he is about you, about us.”

Octavia feels the pull in her gut, like the tears should come, but they don’t, like she’s out of tears, and she’s just empty and exhausted and cold, and all she wants is to get into bed. She sits there, arms wrapped around Clarke, half in her lap, and doesn’t cry, doesn’t move, barely feels. Clarke is the only reason she feels grounded at all.

She whispers, barely able to find her own voice, “Can we all go to bed?”

“Yeah, babe, we can.”

##  _______________________________________

 

The next morning the four had been slow to get up, leaving the warmth of the bed and each other’s arms one by one until it was only Octavia still in bed. Lexa, two cups of coffee in hand, climbed back up the stairs when half the morning had passed and Octavia still hadn’t left bed.

She pauses in the doorway to their room. Octavia looks small curled up just off of center in their oversized bed. She’s almost lost to the mountain of the comforter that she’s gathered around her like a bird building a nest. Intermittently she hears a sniffling hiccup of a breath emanating from the pile.

Lexa sets the mugs of coffee down on the bedside table and searches for an edge to the comforter and sheets, gently tugging at them so she can slip underneath. Warmth envelopes her as the comforter falls down around her, sealing them both in a hazy cocoon. Lexa can just make out the tangle of Octavia’s hair as she scoots closer to her girlfriend. Octavia sniffles and turns over.

They’re close enough that their knees knock together as they try to rearrange, Octavia smacks her forehead against Lexa’s nose before snuggling down so she can press her cheek to Lexa’s sternum. Lexa kisses the crown of her head and tries to move so that it will take longer for her arm to fall asleep, because inevitably it will. She brushes at Octavia’s hair, partly to make sure she isn’t laying on any of it but also to keep it from getting into her mouth as it has want to do.

“Raven’s making fruit and waffles in a little while for brunch,” Lexa says as she rubs circles down Octavia’s back. She’s starting to worry because Octavia has barely said anything since Bellamy stormed out the night before and it isn’t like her to stay in bed, alone, well into the morning.

She feels Octavia nod.

And that’s it, they settle into each other in the semi-darkness given to them by the comforter, legs and arms tangled together, breath falling into sync. Octavia sniffles sometimes and presses her face more securely against Lexa, but for the most part they are just there, together. Lexa finds herself drifting in the warmth, and is nearly asleep again when Octavia breaks the silence.

“I don’t know what to do,” her voice is raw and stuffy from all the tears. “ I don’t want to lose my brother, but I don’t know if I have a choice.”

Lexa presses a kiss to the top of Octavia’s head and tightens her arms around her girlfriend. “He made a lot of choices for you last night in saying what he said.” She chooses her words carefully, as much as she wants to express her frustration over Bellamy, not to mention her own hurt, she doesn’t want to compound the situation. This is the only time, other than right after her head injury, that Lexa has ever seen Octavia inconsolable.

“I should have confronted him sooner.” Octavia’s lips brush across Lexa’s collarbone, and her words are almost lost.

“About what?” She whispers. Her fingers wrap protectively around the back of Octavia’s head, nails scratching lightly at her scalp.

Octavia shimmies and leans back so she can watch Lexa’s reaction, though the light in their blanket bubble is dim. She can just make out the curve of her cheek. “About him threatening you. I never addressed it again.” She nuzzles Lexa’s cheek with her nose. “It shouldn’t have happened in the first place… after what happened with Clarke. I should have made sure something like that never happened again.”

He’s her brother, and somehow, she feels responsible for how he’s treated her girlfriends and their friends. If she hadn’t of brought him into their circle then none of this would have happened. She can tell by the way they’ve held onto her, tried to comfort her that they’re hurting more than they let on.

“Your brother being an asshole isn’t your fault.” 

Octavia runs her hand up Lexa’s arm, her hand coming to rest along her jaw. On top of the confusion and pain from Bellamy’s reaction, the guilt she felt comes back to her. Looking at Lexa like this, she remembers every fight they had over coming out, and the panic that had gripped her when Bellamy had arrived. All her fears had played out yesterday, “I get it now though, why you didn’t want to come out.”

“This isn’t what I was afraid of,  _ am _ afraid of.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“It’s not something we have to talk about right now,” Lexa whispers as she tucks Octavia’s hair behind her ear almost as if she’s trying to distract herself from the thoughts running through her head. “Maybe we just pause on coming out to anyone else until we get through what’s going on with your brother.”

Octavia bites her lip and drops her gaze. She isn’t quite certain what she wants now though. Now that it’s over… Not coming out fully means they still have walls and boundaries, and she never wanted those to stay in place.

“So still nothing in public?”

“It might be best.” Lexa picks at the sheet beneath them, hoping that maybe she can prolong this a little longer until she can figure out how to face the fears she’s come to realize she has.

“What do we do about my brother?” Octavia snuggles closer to Lexa, her cheek pressed to Lexa’s shoulder.

“That’s up to him really. If he comes back, or if he contacts you.” Lexa continues drawing circles along Octavia’s spine.

“I don’t know if I can forgive him for this.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know, but he’s my brother, he’s my family. He used to protect me.” Octavia can barely get the words out around the tears threatening to spill, tightening her throat, choking her. “And now he’s turning into the person that we both feared growing up.”

She shifts and reaches up a hand to rub her left shoulder, it’s as if drudging up the memory brings the physical pain with it. Lexa covers her hand with her own and squeezes lightly. Octavia tries to shake the feeling that she’ll never escape her past.

Lexa tips Octavia’s chin up so they’re eye to eye again, “What would it take for you to trust him again?”

“I don’t know…” Octavia sucks in a deep breath the heat from being underneath the comforter heavy in her lungs. She kicks at the sheets, but doesn’t move them from inside their cocoon as she shifts onto her back. She closes her eyes. “He’d have to prove to me that he’d changed.” She doesn’t think he ever will. “He’d have to prove to you and Clarke and Raven that he’s earned it.”

“One day at a time.” Lexa kisses Octavia on the cheek. “Anything you need, you know we’re here for you.”

Octavia’s stomach rumbles, “I could do with breakfast.”

“Good thing Raven’s already on it then.”

##  _______________________________________

 

The television is on low but neither Octavia nor Raven are paying it much attention. They’ve both seen  _ Jupiter Ascending _ more times than they can count and could tune in at any moment and know exactly where in the story they were. It’s just so much background noise.

Raven has her laptop propped on the edge on a pillow to her right and is slowly typing out her syllabi for next term, her other side is occupied by Octavia’s head, pressed up against her nub. Only her hair is visible, peeking out from under the oversized fleece blanket. Her face is pressed into the crease of Raven’s hip.

They’ve been like this since just after breakfast, which Octavia had hardly touched despite trying to be positive. Raven rests her hand on Octavia’s head and strokes her hair absently as she types. This would almost be a relaxed morning if the air wasn’t heavy with what had happened. She’s not felt so comfortably domestic with anyone since before her accident.

Octavia hovers on the edge of sleep. Her head is heavy, overwhelmed, and she feels on the verge of a migraine after all the stress of the past few days. Her thoughts are sluggish and it’s like all her post-concussion symptoms are back at full strength. She can barely even focus on the movie. Between the light and the movement she feels ill.

Her phone vibrates twice, and she curls more tightly into Raven. She wraps around Raven’s residual limb, needing to be closer, as she half pulls herself into Raven’s lap. She ignores the text. A few seconds later when another comes in she frowns and digs her phone out from between the couch cushions where it’s fallen. Still underneath the blanket she makes a little tent so she can see her phone screen.

She squints at the screen, willing her eyes to focus. The only reason she knows it’s Bellamy texting is the blurry color of the emojis next to his name. Her head throbs and she’s glad she hasn’t been able to read the message yet. Octavia closes her eyes and rubs her face, letting her phone fall into Raven’s lap as she does.

Talking to her brother is something she knows she needs to do but it isn’t something she wants to do or is ready to. Her heart is still aching.

Raven scratches at her Octavia’s scalp. “Thumb.” She picks up the fleece and holds out Octavia’s phone.

“Why?”

“Because I’m texting your brother back for you to tell him to take a chill pill, and I don’t want to bother to get up and get my phone to do it when yours is in my hand.”

Octavia reaches up until her hand wraps around the cold glass and plastic of her phone, she feels for the divot and presses lightly until she feels it vibrate and the phone unlock.

Raven’s half tempted to just delete the messages. She’s furious with Bellamy, between what he said and how he said it she’s lost any respect she had for him. And she knows that the conversation he’s trying to start with Octavia will only hurt her more.

She shuts her laptop and lays it on the floor against the couch. Gently, she nudges Octavia and tugs at the blanket so she can lay down with her head on Octavia’s thigh. She’s twisted up and knows she won’t be able to stay like this for too long but she needs to be as close to Octavia as she can right now. It’s an undeniable ache in her soul, like if she could take all of Octavia’s hurt and pain away, maybe that would be enough to soothe it. 

Raven presses a kiss to the side of Octavia’s hip and settles in. She taps on the screen to keep it from turning off again and reads the full length of Bellamy’s message. 

She tries not to let rage consume her.

_ Bellamy 2:24pm : _ I don’t get it, O. I don’t get why you wouldn’t tell me, why you thought that you would have to hide any part of your life from me, unless of course you were doing something that you knew you shouldn’t. And now that this… whatever it is… is out there in the open (it is -not- a relationship) maybe I do get why you didn’t say anything, but I’ll never understand why you’d willingingly participate.

_ Bellamy 2:26pm : _ We need to talk. I need my sister back. I want you to help me understand

_ Octavia 2:33pm: _ This is Raven. O is having a concussion relapse day because of how stressful yesterday was. So she’s not allowed her phone until she can open her eyes/watch tv/sit up without wanting to writhe in pain. You can direct your questions to me though. I’ve been given permission to text you on her phone so she can read later.

_ Bellamy 2:35pm: _ Where is she?

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:35pm: _ in my lap

_ Bellamy 2:36pm: _ tmi Rae

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:36pm: _ she’s my girlfriend, Bellamy, this kind of thing happens a lot

_ Bellamy 2:40pm: _ If she was just dating you it’d be fine.

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:40pm: _ are you sure about that? because Clarke told me about the scar on her eyebrow

_ Bellamy 2:44pm: _ I fucked up that day, okay?

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:44pm: _ did you consider you might change your mind about yesterday like you did about that day?

_ Bellamy 2:45pm: _ This is different.

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:45pm: _ how?

_ Bellamy 2:56pm: _ It just is. This isn’t what people do. I don’t think I could ever share Gina with anyone, although that might not matter so much anymore. She’s angry with me. I don’t know how you could possibly love more than one person at once, really be in love with them. And when I think about O not being loved equally it makes me so angry. 

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:57pm: _ this is what we do, and we’re people, ergo...

_ Octavia(Raven) 2:59pm:  _ the thing is, this isn’t about you… this is about us, and we love each other deeply. and if you want to be in our lives, if you want to be in Octavia’s life you gotta let go of that anger because we’re not letting you hurt her or us any longer. We aren’t degenerates, we aren’t disgusting, we’re four grown ass women who have a lot of love in their hearts and are mature enough to have a fucking conversation about the relationship they’re in

_ Bellamy 3:08pm: _ So that’s it? I’m out? 

_ Octavia(Raven) 3:08pm: _ that depends on you. learn how to control your temper and think about how much what you said hurt your sister AND your friends because don’t think for a second that Anya and Niylah and Lincoln are okay with what you said either. apologize, like really apologize because you broke your sister’s heart yesterday and none of us will forgive that easily

Raven sets Octavia’s phone aside and nudges Octavia to sit up. They shift, hands on arms, on hips, on waists as they try not to knock each other off the couch. Octavia barely opens her eyes, wincing each time she does. Raven collects Octavia in her arms once more and kisses her on the nose as they settle back down in each other’s arms. 

If she deletes the texts from Bellamy she knows it will only save Octavia from heartbreak in the short run of things. She knows Octavia won’t let this go this time, won’t turn a blind eye and walk away, ignoring the problem and hoping it resolves itself. She pushed Bellamy away once when he threatened Lexa and it’s clear that it did nothing to him.

There’s an anger consuming him that’s blinding him. He’s selfishly refusing to take a look at his actions, and if his allusion to Gina is any indication he might lose more than just his sister over what he said yesterday.

Raven cups the back of Octavia’s head with one hand as she presses her lips to the top of it. Octavia wriggles closer.

“What did he say?” Octavia can’t relax until she knows for certain.

“He’s angry and doesn’t understand.” Raven sighs heavily and she can feel tears fill the corners of her eyes.

“What’s not to understand, we love each other.” Octavia leans on her elbow and looks down at Raven. “I love you, and I love Lexa, and I love Clarke. It’s not that difficult a concept to grasp.”

“Preaching to the choir babe, I know, and I love you, too.”

Octavia dips her head and kisses Raven lightly before resting her forehead against Raven’s. “I just wish he did.”

Raven pulls Octavia down against her as she shifts onto her back. “I know. I wish he did too.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa leans against the doorframe as she watches Clarke with the last of her students. The museum is doing a day camp during the week between Christmas and New Years, and Clarke had been roped into working the final three days. It’s evident that she doesn’t mind at all.

Clarke beams as she talks to the parents of one of her students, a little tow-headed boy with a smudge of green paint under his left eye. Lexa can’t make out what is being said but it’s evident as the young boy bounces and looks up expectantly at the adults that he loves being in Clarke’s class. Lexa’s hand hovers around the hollow between her collarbones, fingertips worrying the collar of her shirt. The parents are soft with each other, she can feel the familiarity and the pride in their son and their family from across the room.

It’s a traditional nuclear family that she will never know but there are echoes of it in her life, in the love and pride she and her girlfriends share, there are pieces they will never have. 

Lexa shakes the thought from her head before it can really take hold and moves out of the way as the little family leaves before resuming her post in the doorway. Even still, trying to think of anything other than Clarke with children, she can’t shake the sense of warmth in her chest. She wants to cross the room, wrap her arms around Clarke and kiss her neck until she gives in and turns around only to continue the kiss fully. There’s a string wrapped around her breast bone that’s tied to Clarke and watching her reels it in. It’s only sheer force of will that keeps Lexa’s feet rooted in place. Clarke’s coworkers are still in the room. Lexa keeps herself firmly in the doorway.

It doesn’t take Clarke long to feel the weight of Lexa’s gaze. When she does she looks up, she’s full of shy smiles and sparkling eyes. 

Clarke can’t keep the desire out of her eyes. Lexa looks stunning leaning there, her arms crossed, and legs crossed at the ankles like she’s the most casual person in the world leaning there in the doorway in her tailored slacks and matching blazer. Clarke crosses the room. With every step she reminds herself not to reach out to her, not to kiss her or, hug her. They’re slowly working through coming out and they aren’t there yet.

Slow is hard.

Slow is understandable, but she just wants Lexa to trust that they can survive this, because after a long day she doesn’t want to have to hold herself back when her girlfriend picks her up from work. She wants to hold her hand and stand a little bit too close so their hips bump together when they walk, and their fingertips trail against waistlines. She wants to kiss her when they get in the car.

Hiding is starting to wear on her.

Clarke stops a respectable distance from Lexa and shoves her hands in her back pockets, “Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” Lexa echoes her tone as she refolds her jacket across her arms. There’s a magnetic tug drawing her closer to Clarke the nearer she gets. All Lexa wants is to close that distance.

“You didn’t have to come in to get me,” Clarke chews on the inside of her cheek. “I’m almost done.” Ever since the Christmas party things have felt new and awkward again. Where are their lines? What’s too much? Clarke rubs at a spot of paint on her arm with her thumb and focuses on that. It’s easier than trying to act normal with Lexa. She isn’t quite sure what normal is or why everything feels like it does.

“I know. I just wanted…” Lexa trails off. 

“Me too.” Clarke sucks in a breath as she meets Lexa’s gaze. “I’m just going to ask Caris to finish tidying up, and then we can go.”

No more than five minutes later Clarke and Lexa are safe and alone in Lexa’s black Lexus in the parking garage adjacent to the museum. The air is thick and silence stretches between them. Clarke tugs off her jacket as the heater kicks on and curls sideways in the seat so she can look at Lexa who’s holding onto the steering wheel with both hands.

“Why does it feel like we’re trying to hide more now?” Clarke reaches out, her hand wrapping around the bend of Lexa’s elbow as she pulls Lexa’s arm gently toward her.

Lexa doesn’t look at Clarke, just traces the outline of their clasped hands. “Maybe we are.”

“I don’t want to let what Bellamy did to make us take a step backward.” Clarke squeezes Lexa’s hand. She doesn’t want this to be something they continue to fight about, the four of them have been through too much to get this far.

“He’s family and he can’t find it in him to accept us.” Lexa shrugs her shoulders. Her hand falls from Clarke’s and she regrips the steering wheel.

“His being family doesn’t exempt him from being terrible to us,” Clarke says softly. “Not all of us chose our family.”

“Don’t,” Lexa says softly. She wouldn’t have a family if it had not have been for Anya choosing her. 

Clarke opens her mouth and shuts it again. Regret is bitter and it turns her stomach. “That was out of line, I’m sorry.”

“Yes,” Lexa snaps. “It was.”

Clarke sinks into her seat and looks out the windshield at the concrete wall in front of them. Her knees tucked up high, heels barely pressed to the edge of the seat. She wishes she could disappear as the guilt wells up inside her. “I meant that we can’t let Bellamy dictate our decisions, that’s all.”

Lexa closes her eyes and tips her head back. If she were the praying sort she would do that now. Instead she wishes for a star to wish on and scrunches up her face until bright splotches of colored light burst behind her eyelids.

“I know,” Lexa says in a voice that’s barely a whisper.

“Then why are we letting him win? Why aren’t we trying to prove to him that what we have is good and worthwhile?” Clarke cranes her neck and watches Lexa. She feels caught between understanding the fear and wanting to say fuck fear in the face. She’s caught between her girlfriends trying to mediate this slowly unravelling disaster.

Lexa deflates slowly, curling forward so her forehead is pressed between her hands on the steering wheel. Her shoulders slump and she feels like she’s one wrong breath away from tears. “Because I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what his reaction means. We’re knowingly making our lives harder.”

“I’m not saying, Octavia and Raven aren’t saying, that we make a big announcement to the world. Just that when given the opportunity we hold hands,” Clarke reaches out and rubs her thumb across Lexa’s thigh. “When asked we don’t deny it… when you pick me up from work you don’t act like you’re afraid someone might think you like me.”

“Okay… not yet... but okay.” Lexa sniffles and swallows down tears. “We have to get past this first. Octavia has to be okay again, I don’t want the potential shit storm hitting us when we’re still struggling.”

“Somehow she’s our rudder, and we’re kinda going in circles without her at a hundred percent.”

Lexa reaches out and takes Clarke’s hand and brings it to her lips. One day at a time they’ll find their way through this.

##  _______________________________________

 

Eight seems like an easy fit when normally they’re at least eleven. Octavia, Clarke, Lexa, Raven, Anya, Niylah, Lincoln and Gina are tucked around the normal booth in the corner of their favorite restaurant. Two days after Christmas Gina had started a new group text, one without Bellamy, and asked if she could take everyone out for dinner before the new year. 

Lincoln had reported back after dropping her off at home after the blow up, Bellamy was at his place and Gina was at hers. Still, there’s an audible relief when she shows up without any visible bruising. 

The eight of them make pleasantries until they order, phones on the table out of habit, but the conversation falls flat. There has to be a discussion about Bellamy for more reason than one.

Gina breaks the silence. “I talked to Bellamy, we agreed he needs to take some time to get his head on but he wrote out letters to each of you…” She fiddles with the napkin in her lap. “I don’t know what they say, just that outwardly he seems to understand he was in the wrong.”

“And you? Are you okay?” Raven asks. She rubs her thumb along the edge of Clarke’s hand under the table, wishing she could reach out for Octavia, but Octavia is just beyond nestled between Clarke and Lexa.

Gina blinks rapidly as she turns to Raven, straightening up and reaching for her water before she tries to respond. “Yeah, of course I’m fine.” Her gaze flits around the table finding Lexa and Clarke last. “He… Bellamy’s never threatened me. Honestly.” She lets her head fall into her hands.

Clarke leans into Octavia watching Gina softly break in front of them. She nuzzles Octavia’s shoulder and tries to figure out how her girlfriend is reacting. All week Octavia has been alternately closed off and cuddly. Either needed to shut herself away or hide away from the world with one of them. There has been no in between as she’s tried to come to peace with how her brother reacted.

She wants to believe the best of Bellamy, that he’s been kind and sweet to Gina and her shock at the party was absolutely genuine. There’s a chance she had never seen this side of him. It didn’t come out often but the anger had been running closer to the surface these past few years.

Octavia breaks the silence, “He was never like this growing up.” Her words are soft almost lost to the din of the restaurant. “As angry as I am with him right now I’m worried too because he’s lost a part of himself.”

Lexa wraps her arm around Octavia’s shoulders, her fingertips reaching out to brush Clarke’s hair. Clarke holds Raven’s hand and Raven leans into them all. They’ll get through this if they’re together.

Gina reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of letters, she sets them on the table, exchanging them for her phone.

“I don’t want to speak for him, or excuse what he did, because it’s inexcusable, but I think he feels that way too.” 

Octavia and Gina watch each other, trying to find the right things to say that won’t deliberately hurt the other. There’s an ocean of understanding between them and Octavia isn’t certain there’s anything more to say. Still, she tries, because words can hurt sometimes but they can also heal.

“He needs to find that for himself, this isn’t your job to help him reconcile what he’s done with who he wants to be.” Octavia leans into her girls’ arms. 

“I realize that, and I don’t intend to.”

Octavia glances to the pile of letters on the table. 

“He was going to mail them, I wanted to see you all to let you know I’m okay… I mean, that he hasn’t hurt me.” Gina chokes out the last few words.

Niylah reaches out, her hand wrapping gently around Gina’s forearm as the woman starts to slide out of the booth. Gina turns, her head dipped, tears in her eyes.

“You’re our friend, if you want to be with friends right now, you can stay.” Niylah smiles gently.

“I don’t want to be a reminder of the pain he caused.”

Both Anya and Lexa lean forward at the same time but Lexa starts talking first. “Listen, you’re your own person, and you exist separately from him. Don’t punish yourself for something he did.” Anya settles back a thin wisp of pride curling the corner of her mouth.

Gina slides back into the booth and sets her phone back down on the table. “I’d like to stay for a while.”

“Good,” Lincoln leans forward. “Because we need to talk about what the plan is for New Years.”

##  _______________________________________

 

When Octavia’s alarm goes off the sky is still dark, only the barest hint of the sun tints the sky along the eastern edge of the horizon. Clarke nudges Octavia and whines. It’s the first day of the new year and she just wants a lazy morning in bed, then brunch when they finally get themselves downstairs. She knows Octavia made plans with Niylah though to get up and hike first thing this morning as sun rises.

It’s something they used to do. It started the New Years that Niylah and Clarke were dating, the three had stayed up all night and the two of them had gotten it in their heads that they needed to hike up and see the sunrise from above the city. Clarke, still slightly drunk, had agreed. The next year they made an actual plan of it and Clarke had stayed in bed. Late nights melting into early mornings were not her thing.

It had been theirs though, and she was glad to hear they’d decided to go out again this year, even if it meant one less in their bed this morning.

Clarke reaches across Octavia for her phone and turns the alarm off. The room is dark, just a hazy glow through the gauzy curtains from the city lights. Behind her she feels Lexa and Raven shift but neither move much. Clarke settles down under the comforter again and almost falls asleep as the warmth envelops her before she drags herself out of it and turns back to her girlfriend, the only one of them that needs to be awake four hours after they collapsed in bed.

Setting her teeth against Octavia’s shoulder she doesn’t quite bite down, just enough that would normally get her attention. 

“Octavia,” she whispers as she starts to kiss her, light pecks to her cheeks and nose. Octavia wrinkles her face. “Up sleepyhead. Your alarm went off.”

Octavia wraps her arms around Clarke and presses her face to Clarke’s chest. “I like it here,” she mumbles.

“While I know you love my boobs, they’ll be here when you get home.”

“Promise?”

Clarke kisses the top of Octavia’s head, “Promise. Now up yourself before Niylah gets here.”

One year Octavia failed to wake up before Niylah showed up and there had been a very loud and very bright wake up call for both Clarke and Octavia. She doesn’t want a repeat.

“And waffles?”

“With bacon even,” Raven mumbles from the other side of Lexa. “Clarke’s boobs, waffles, and bacon, now go on your pre-dawn hike.”

Octavia extracts herself from bed and stretches, “You all sure you don’t want to come?”

“Next pre-dawn hike,” Lexa says more into her pillow than to the room.

Clarke sits and and pulls Octavia back for a kiss. “You and Niylah should go hang out like planned. It’ll be good. And then Anya and Lincoln will come over for brunch.” She kiss Octavia once more before flopping back on the bed. “I love you.”

Lexa and Raven echo the sentiment.

Octavia glances back at the bed as she starts to pull on the pile of clothes she had set out the day before. “Love you all, too.”

There’s a tug in her gut and she wants to burrow back into the warmth of their bed and curl up against Clarke who’s now laying across Lexa’s chest so she can wrap an arm around Raven. She feels colder than she should, but there’s truly nothing warmer than being pressed skin to skin with her girls. She dresses quickly and grabs her phone.

Downstairs she unlocks the door as she texts Niylah that she’s making coffee.

A few minutes later the front door opens and Niylah strolls in looking far more awake and put together than Octavia. Her hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail and secured with a fleece headband. She’s got on several layers of thermal exercise gear and looks like she stepped out of a magazine shoot. They exchange tired hellos.

“That’s unfair.” Octavia mutters as she blows on her coffee to cool it down. She hands a second thermos to Niylah.

“What is?”

“You look awake and put together and I know we went to bed before you did.”

“Lincoln drove, I passed out on the way to Anya’s.”

“So you all stayed over?”

“He insisted on sleeping on the couch even though all we did was sleep.” Niylah says it like she’s both surprised and thankful. “I woke him before I left so he could go get some New Year’s cuddles in.”

Octavia sips on her coffee and lets it warm her up for a moment as she thinks about her reply. It’s comforting to just be able to talk about their relationships, to not have to worry about saying the wrong thing offhand. She doesn’t feel like she has to keep her friends at arm’s length just to keep her promises. 

“Do you think you’ll ever be with him?”

Niylah shrugs and starts looking through the cupboards, “Granola bars?”

“To your right.”

She opens the next cupboard and grabs a couple bars before grabbing fruit from the hanging baskets. “I want to be sure. With Anya I was absolutely certain, and things are good like they are right now.”

“He’s good you know,” Octavia grins, but Niylah’s already heading toward the door.

“I know he’s an amazing guy,” Niylah picks up Octavia’s hat and gloves and hiking boots. As Octavia pulls on her jacket and shoes for the car ride. “Otherwise we wouldn’t be how we are now.”

“That’s not what I–”

Niylah turns and shoves Octavia in the shoulder playfully, “I know what you meant, I was ignoring it.” 

Everything gathered for the hike they slip out into the cold and dark and into Niylah’s car. The sky is clear and just turning from dark blue to lighter dark blue. 

“At this point I just want to be absolutely certain,” Niylah taps on the steering wheel as she talks. “He’s one of my best friends, there’s just a lot of risk.”

Octavia doesn’t answer for a few minutes, her mind drifting to Raven and how apprehensive she had been at first. “I get that. You don’t want to lose what you have.”

“I suppose you are the one person that would.” Niylah says softly. “I’ve missed hanging out.”

“Me too.”

A few minutes pass in silence and Octavia turns on the radio and plugs in her phone to bring up her road trip mix. It’s a mess of 80s and 90s country mixed with 70s and 80s rock. She hums along softly as they drive out of town. The roads are quiet, and it isn’t really until they start getting toward the trailhead that they see anyone else.

Though the particular hike they chose for the first day of the year is empty. It’s all theirs that morning. The first hour is cold and dark and muddy. It chills them down to their bones, even as the exercise warms them up. As they break through the tree line the dark falls away to pre-dawn light. Below them is a sprawl of wilderness.

“It’s not my business but has Bellamy even apologized to you for what he said?” The way Niylah speaks it’s as if the question has been eating up inside her for ages.

Octavia adjusts her water pack and huddles down into her jacket. After his text exchange with Raven he hadn’t responded to any of Octavia’s messages, and she didn’t know if he would. It felt like the end of an era, the Blake siblings split with an irreconcilable conflict.

“No,” she replies softly. “He doesn’t seem to want to understand or accept my relationship.”

“He’s being an ass about this.” Niylah turns back to look at Octavia and pauses just long enough so they’re side by side. She throws her arm across Octavia’s shoulders. “He’s always taken time to come around when something changes in your life.”

“This feels different though,” Octavia loops her arm around Niylah’s waist, even though walking like this slows them down. They’re almost to the top and the sun is just starting to rise. She rubs at her temples with her free hand. “He refuses to listen to me.”

“Are you okay? The hike isn’t too much?” Niylah taps her finger against her forehead. 

“No I’m fine,” Octavia shakes her head. “It’s just, he’s my family and I don’t know how to do this without him.”

Niylah stops and wraps her arms around Octavia for a brief moment. “You’re doing really well, with or without him. Sometimes family is the people we chose and we have to let our blood family go. If they can’t accept us that’s the choice we have unless we hide who we are.”

Octavia pulls back and wipes at her eyes. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

“Just a little.” She claps Octavia on the shoulder and they keep walking.

“And it isn’t what I wanted.”

“Then you made the right choice. It’s up to him now if he wants to be a part of your life.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke tries the doorknob to find it locked and digs her hand into her pocket to fish out her keys. It’s below freezing outside and she had to walk the six blocks from the bus stop in the dark. She’s an hour late getting home, but tonight she doesn’t mind. Tonight even the cold seeping into her bones can’t take away her good mood, and with the below freezing temperatures and impending storm there’s a lot of cold.

Fumbling with the lock takes her cold hands longer than she’d like and she hops inside the house. The heat stings her hands as she shuts the door behind herself. Her face feels it next. She calls out a hello as she starts unbundling while simultaneously trying to warm up.

“We were starving and dinner was ready; there’s a plate for you in the oven,” Lexa half apologizes. 

Clarke turns around and finds herself being kissed. “Hi,” she whispers softly against Lexa’s lips.

“Hey,” Lexa responds. “So are you going to tell us what kept you at the gallery, your message was very cryptic.” She slides her hands under Clarke’s jacket and around her waist. 

“Let me get out of my day clothes. I don’t want pants any longer.” Clarke says as she shrugs her jacket off her shoulders and hangs it up. She ends the declaration with a quick peck of a kiss on the tip of Lexa’s nose.

“No pants are the best pants,” Raven calls out from where she and Octavia are sitting on the couch. 

“Case in point, Raven has no pants,” Octavia giggles. “Just the short spandex shorts that make her ass and legs look great.”

Raven dives down and there’s a shriek of laughter from Octavia. “Both her legs!” Octavia gasps between bouts of laughter.

Clarke makes her way across the living room and kisses each of her girlfriends hello, nearly getting pulled down onto the half-tickle fight half-make out session going on. “Give me five to change? And would someone mind grabbing my dinner? I’m starving.”

“I’ll grab something…” Octavia mumbles to herself and giggles.

Raven reaches over the edge of the couch and slaps Clarke’s ass as she starts to walk away.

“That would be your dessert, not my dinner,” Clarke teases as she leans back over the couch and kisses Raven once more.

Upstairs, she changes as quickly as she can, yanking on sweats and a tank top and Lexa’s fuzzy socks. Excitement bubbles in her chest and she nearly trips over herself as she tries to move faster than she’s actually capable of. She manages to make it down the stairs in one piece, despite nearly wiping out when she lands on the hardwood floor, and proceeding to trip over Raven’s prosthetic and crutches all in one go.

Clarke stops herself short of bouncing onto the couch with her girlfriends and forces herself to pace in front of the TV, which she mutes after stealing the remote from Raven. The pacing turns into sliding back and forth in Lexa’s fuzzy socks.

“Okay, are you gonna spill, or make us guess?” Octavia half sits up, having been lounging across both of Raven and Lexa’s laps.

Clarke isn’t quite sure how to put into words what she wants to say because there’s so much, and it’s going to take a lot of work, and if she wants it to go well it means she has to ask her girlfriends for quite a lot. It had all started that afternoon when, as she was closing up the gallery for the afternoon, Kane had asked her to come into his office. 

It had been two and a half years ago that Kane had asked her to come work for him, help him find artists and coordinate shows. She’d given up her job with better benefits and a steadier paycheck in order to get closer to doing what she really wanted. Managing her own gallery, hopefully after launching her own career as an artist.

“Kaneaskedmetoputtogethermyownshow,” the words come out in an unintelligable rush and they’re met with a stunned silence. Clarke hugs her arms around herself and wills herself to be calm, “Kane asked me to put together my own show… with just my art.”

There’s a pause and then three sets of surprised yells. All three of her girlfriends jump up from the couch at once. It’s Octavia though that jumps over the coffee table and straight into Clarke’s arms. They crash together, more collision than kiss and hit the ground together in a fit of laughter. 

“For real?” Octavia presses up onto her forearms and looks down at Clarke. This has been the dream since she can remember. It’s been what Clarke’s wanted for so long now that it feels like it’s become her dream too. It’s why she never complains about the empty spot next to her in the middle of the night when Clarke’s up late painting.

Clarke nods rapidly. “For real.” She pulls Octavia down for a kiss, one that feels like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for. It’s a long awaited exhale, the culmination of years of hard work and sacrifice. Clarke’s been the headliner at gallery shows before but nothing even close to this scale. This is the break she’s been waiting for. She feels a warm wetness on her face and brushes her thumbs across Octavia’s cheeks. “Why are you crying?”

Octavia shoves Clarke in the shoulder and sniffles, “Because I’m happy for you.” She leans down to pepper Clarke’s face in kisses and she’s laughing even though she’s crying. Her heart feels full to bursting, and she can feel Raven and Lexa near them, waiting for the moment to open up, because Clarke and Octavia need this to be just them for a few seconds. Almost two decades of long nights and rough patches and fighting and making up and trying to be there for each other as best they can. Octavia’s been steadily progressing down her chosen path, but Clarke’s been hustling and biding her time.

“You did it,” Octavia whispers. She isn’t sure she’s ever felt more proud of anyone in her entire life.

“We’re only halfway there.” Clarke looks up to Raven and reaches out her hand, then past Octavia’s shoulder to Lexa and extends her other hand. They both take her hands as they move closer. “I still have to get pieces ready for it, something worthy of that space, and our clientele. And not even six months to finish everything. Kane doesn’t want  _ anyone _ else up that night.”

“We need to celebrate!” Octavia bounces up and runs to the kitchen. There’s a series of crashes as she rummages through the cupboards.

Lexa glances to Raven and then down to Clarke. The look they share borders on lascivious. In one smooth motion Lexa shoots out over Clarke, holding herself on quivering arms just above her girlfriend. “A celebration does seem in order,” she says as she kisses Clarke, biting down on her bottom lip.

The kiss draws a moan from Clarke’s throat and she arches up, chasing Lexa’s lips as Lexa sits back on her heels. “I’m really happy Kane’s finally giving you this chance,” Lexa’s voice is soft but the look in her eyes is teasing and come hither, like she’s ready to show Clarke exactly how happy she is. Lexa runs her hands halfway up Clarke’s inner thighs then back to her knees. Clarke collapses onto the floor with a small huff and Raven laughs. “What pieces do you think you might put in?”

Clarke sits up, a small pout on her lips that has everything to do with Lexa sitting calmly between her legs and not continuing what she started. “The Reflection, of course, but I’m not sure what the theme should be yet.”

A loud pop and a screech from Octavia interrupts the conversation.

“I think O found the champagne bottle we couldn’t find on New Year’s Eve,” Raven says as she settles in behind Clarke, her lips finding their way to Clarke’s neck before she’s done talking. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers.

Clarke turns in Raven’s arms and kisses her hard, hands framing Raven’s face. It’s a giddy feeling, celebrating with her girlfriends, the joy and pride she can feel emanating from them. Raven pulls back and kisses Clarke’s nose.

“Champagne.”

Octavia makes her way to her knees, four full champagne flutes and the bottle cradled in her hands. “This would have been easier if I’d waited to pour.”

Lexa helps take the flutes and passes them out. “To Clarke,” she smiles.

“To Clarke,” Raven echoes.

“And to the countless sleepless nights we’re about to endure for the next six months as she passes out in her studio instead of in our bed.” Octavia laughs as she raises her glass high.

The thin glass clinks as they cheers each other, each tipping back half the champagne after. It’s good they couldn’t find this bottle last week, it’s just what they needed for tonight.

“It won’t be that bad.” Clarke tries to protest.

“Uh-huh,” Raven snorts. She snuggles closer to Clarke and rests her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. Her good leg tucks underneath Clarke’s and her residual limb presses against her thigh. “Just like when you’re trying to finish a single piece to put up and we would haul you to bed at three a.m. for two weeks? How many new paintings are you already planning for?”

Clarke pouts and tries to look angry but completely fails. “Several...”

“We’ll take turns,” Lexa declares with a wink to Clarke.

“About that… not the three of you getting me to bed, but making sure I have the time to paint. What if I quit the museum job, or go on sabbatical until after the gallery show?” The thought is out of her mouth before she’s really wrapped her head around it.

“Would they hold your position for you?” Lexa asks, sipping at her champagne.

“Probably,” Clarke shrugs. “I’m not worried so much about that as I am about losing the income for the next six months. I mean if the show goes well I’ll make more than I would have at the museum ten times over. But, I’d barely be able to contribute to the mortgage and the bills in the meantime.”

Raven tightens her arms around Clarke and shakes her lightly. “What do you think we’re here for?”

Octavia reaches out and nudges Clarke with her foot, “No way you’re not taking whatever time you need to kick ass.”

“It’s not like we’re exactly living month to month,” Lexa reaches out and squeezes Clarke’s knee. “Besides there’s always my inheritance if we need it.”

“We’re not touching that, I have savings and–”

“–what are we saving it for Clarke?”

Clarke finishes her champagne and sets the glass down. “I don’t know… I just don’t want you to feel like you have to pay for this… for me to sit around and paint.”

Lexa tips back her head and downs the rest of her champagne, setting the empty flute next to Clarke’s. She leans forward so she’s on her hands and knees. “Clarke Abigail Griffin,” Lexa growls, tossing out her full name like it’s a warning, even with a slight glint of mirth in her eyes. “We’ve been over this. It’s my money and I get to use it as I see fit.” She catches Clarke up in a searing kiss that traps Clarke between herself and Raven. 

Clarke yields instantly, opening her mouth, allowing Lexa the access she’s demanding with her teeth and her tongue. If it weren’t for Raven behind her she’d be on the ground. She kisses back, whimpering softly as Lexa bites down on her lip and tightens her grip in Clarke’s hair.

Lexa ends the kiss as quickly as she started it.

“And I see supporting my girlfriend’s career perfectly fit. So unless you have specific plans for that absurd amount of money that tends to get larger every month, it gets to be our rainy day fund.” Lexa sits back and refills their champagne flutes as if she hasn’t just kissed her girlfriend senseless.

Clarke nods having not yet figured out how to counter that argument.

Raven clears her throat, “Well, that was hot… Lex, next time I disagree with you just do that if you want to win. I won’t even be mad.”

“Seconded,” Octavia echoes.

“Third...ed,” Clarke whispers softly as she tries to let out a controlled breath. She hadn’t even thought out what she was saying until it was out of her mouth and yet, now that she’d asked it was the only thing that made sense. “So I can quit my job and paint? That’s okay with everyone?”

“Yes!” Three voices echo instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last post of the year! I can't believe how long we've been going with this story now, how many of you are reading it. I've loved it all this past year, talking with you here and on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com). We still have a few chapters yet before the final _planned_ chapter. thank you for reading, and sharing, and creating fanworks, and critiquing, and interacting with me. you all made 2016 just that much brighter for me.


	35. At the End of the Night I Need All of You | present day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so we come to the end of the art show... back where it all started

Lexa and Raven only make it as far as the end of the hallway before Clarke and Octavia are nudging them back down it and towards Kane’s office once more. Anya steps aside to let them pass.

“Found them,” she gestures at the four.

“I think we need to regroup,” Clarke says softly, leaning against Octavia. 

Lexa nods, “That would be good. Things haven’t gone as smoothly as we would have liked today.”

“It’s like a parade of exes in here,” Octavia shakes her head.

“Listen,” Anya takes a step closer to the quartet. “I’ll grab Niylah and we’ll talk to Kane and get him to hold off on whatever he’s got planned next if he needs you for it, Clarke, okay?”

“Thank you.” Clarke reaches out and hugs Anya not really thinking about it. She just wants the rest of the night to go smoothly and without issue. It feels like all they’ve hit so far tonight is one bump after another. Anya wraps her arms around Clarke briefly and pats her gently before shoving her back toward Lexa, Octavia, and Raven. 

“Sort yourselves out, text me if you need to redo makeup, I’ve got my kit in the back.” Anya shoos them toward Kane’s office and walks back out toward the gallery.

Clarke shuts the door behind her softly and leans against it. Her head is spinning just enough that she lets herself close her eyes for a second and tries not to give into the feeling. The floor pulls at her, she could rest there, or on the couch, the four of them could just not return.

Guilt hits her for half a second because it wasn’t her stalker or her ex that showed up today. She should be offering up comfort not seeking it herself. She breathes in deeply through her nose to calm herself and opens her eyes. “Why does it smell like sex in here?”

Octavia shrugs, Raven and Lexa glance at each other and then look away.

“Because Raven and I were interrupted by Anya.” Lexa scrunches up her face expecting some kind of adverse reaction. “I followed her in her after she left Octavia to deal with Wick and between that and Costia we got caught up…”

Octavia leans over and fishes Raven’s ruined panties out of the trash. “Caught up is certainly a word.” The scrap of lace dangles off one finger.

“It’s not like we got very far.” Raven mutters. She leans against the desk and crosses her legs. It probably hadn’t been their best decision, but emotions had been, and were still running high. 

Octavia drops the lace back into the trash, “She got your underwear off.” 

Raven nods her head back and forth, “Fair enough.” She reaches out and tugs Octavia toward her and locks eyes with Clarke trying to coax her forward away from the door with just a look. She wants to wrap herself up in her girls and their love and wash away the sick feeling Wick left her with. “We could finish what Lexa and I started.” She bites her lip as her gaze flicks to Lexa.

“Kane’s expecting us… me back out there soon,” Clarke says. The weight of the night hitting her, or maybe it’s the alcohol starting to fade from her veins. Maybe both. “We don’t have time for that… and with everything else that has happened tonight…” As much as she wants to pretend that everything is okay tonight has been just shy of a disaster. Between fighting with Lexa earlier that afternoon about coming out– about having to ask for support from her girlfriends on what is the biggest day of her career so far– to Wick show up and his subsequent arrest, to Costia showing up… there has been no reprieve and she’s hardly paid much more than a passing thought to her art.

The suddenness with which the thought hits Clarke leaves her nearly in tears.

Octavia and Raven disentangle themselves, standing up, moving with Lexa in the same breath to Clarke as she gives voice to the pain they’re all trying not to feel. Sometimes though there’s nothing to be done but let it be felt.

Lexa steps forward, reaching out to Clarke, not quite certain what exactly has passed over her, what event in the last twenty-four hours has clearly upset her. Clarke’s eyes are glassy and she’s crossed her arms, pulled herself away from the three of them. If they stay here to long there disappearance will be noted. Clarke holds up a hand before Lexa can reach her.

She can’t be touched right then, not by Lexa. The thought has formed in her head, insidious and unfair, but perhaps entirely correct: if they were used to being out completely tonight would have gone better. Maybe they would have been more organized and less spread out. Strength in numbers.

“Tonight, we were supposed to be here for you, Clarke, and I feel like we’ve been all over the place trying to hold ourselves together.” Lexa says, her throat tight.

Backing up Clare feels Octavia’s hand light on the small of her back. The fact that she doesn’t want to pull away from Octavia makes the overwhelming breadth of feelings worse. She clenches her jaw, “It’s not as if we knew Wick or Costia would be here tonight.” Some things were out of their control.

“You’re ex is still here, Lexa,” Octavia says softly. She leans into Clarke, feeling the gentle tremor running through her girlfriend that meant things usually went one of two ways, a break down or a fight. Both ended in tears and neither were what they needed right now. Steadying her breath she rubs a soothing hand across Clarke’s back. At most times she was all for going with her gut instinct, but today they could have used a solid plan. Not something half cobbled together on their way over less than an hour after barely recovering from a fight.

Lexa blinks rapidly having already shoved all thoughts of Costia and Echo and that painful disaster aside to deal with the mess she’s left for them. “Yeah…” She looks up trying to find the walls she used to throw up around her heart and finds herself scrambling in soft dirt that barely makes a gentle bed for it to rest in. Her walls are gone and she doesn’t know how to keep herself from rolling through feelings as they appear to her. She stumbles over her next words. “She wants to meet all of you… that is, if you want to.”

She finds herself dismissing it, as if Costia wasn’t her best friend for a third of her life, as if she didn’t shape the last two decades of it. Even if Costia was the one that broke her heart so thoroughly. There’s a part of her that’s willing to give up the reconciliation if it means she can make things up to her current girlfriends.

“Yeah,” Raven shifts between Lexa, and Clarke and Octavia, not quite sure where she wants to place herself so she doesn’t move closer to either. “If we have time, of course.”

“Yeah,” Clarke shakes her head and runs her hand through her hair. Her head is spinning like she’s losing the thread. There’s a part of her that wants another glass of champagne, the rest of Raven’s whiskey. If she’s drunk she doesn’t have to deal with the rest of the night, right? She can just be shown out the back door and taken home so she can pour herself into bed. Octavia wraps her arms solidly around Clarke and she nearly loses her resolve to not cry.

The last thing she wants to do is cry, with this much makeup on she isn’t hiding that mess.

“Are we okay?” Octavia whispers. This conversation is going nowhere she expected, and she isn’t entirely sure why it’s started. “We can get through the rest of the night, if we’re together.” Reaching out her hand she wiggles her fingers, waiting for Lexa or Raven to take her hand.

For a moment no one moves and they’re all wondering if this is a breaking point.

Raven takes Octavia’s hand gently and then slips her other hand into Lexa’s. They’re linked, but they aren’t in their circle. Clarke looks to Lexa and tries to swallow down the anger tied to the pain cutting through her heart but it sticks in her throat. As much as she wants to she isn’t ready yet to forgive, not until Lexa understand why she’s upset.

All Lexa wants to do is take her hand back from Raven and wrap her arms around herself. With her walls down, gone, obliterated she has no protections. She can feel the tears on the verge of rolling down her cheeks, and even the slightest movement on her part will send them tumbling. 

“I-I’m sorry, Clarke.” The words catch in Lexa’s throat because it’s evident that the issue weighing heaviest on her is that Lexa’s been the one keeping them from truly growing into their relationship because she was ignoring everyone else’s needs for her own. She takes a few steps back and perches on the edge of Kane’s desk. “Octavia, Raven…”

Lexa looks back up trying to pull herself together because she doesn’t get to feel bad about this right now. She’s been self indulgent for too long now. With her heart trembling and cracking in her chest she folds her hands gently in her lap and meets three sets of eyes regarding her carefully.

“This is my fault.” Lexa ignores the first hot wet tear she feels roll down her cheek and accepts the ensuing mess. “Not Wick or Costia… but if I hadn’t kept us in the closet so long today could have been handled more smoothly, and it wouldn’t be feeling like a trainwreck right now.”

Lexa tries to dab at her eyes without smudging eyeliner everywhere and looks down. Her free hand falls to her lap and she wonders if she should let go of Raven’s hand because she’s waiting for the blame to be piled on but her girlfriends are silent. She wants to let go of Raven’s hand because she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to handle Raven letting go.

Raven squeezes Lexa’s hand encouraging her to continue, there’s clearly more she has to say even as she’s having trouble saying it. In some ways she’s already forgiven Lexa for keeping them in the closet. Lexa gives Raven a watery smile that wobbles and falters and isn’t so much a smile as it is a twitch of an attempt. She let goes of Raven’s hand and resists every urge to fold in on herself like a puppet going back in a box.

“If I had let us be  _ out _ , like really out, not just to those that we told, but not caring who knew, we could have just been together tonight like we meant to be instead of stumbling through how we talk about our relationship and handle the reactions. Instead of feeling the full weight of every word so acutely we could have been united. We  _ should _ have been united.”

Clarke raises an eyebrow, almost surprised the Lexa is caving so easily and grasping the extent of what she’s enacted. Still, she’s can feel anger bubbling inside her like a protective moat around her heart, “You’re right, we should have been united tonight, not scattered.”

“Scattered is what we did before to play it safe,” Octavia rests her chin on Clarke’s shoulder.

Lexa winces but doesn’t argue or defend herself because they’re right.

“There’s no way we could have been prepared for our exes,” Raven points out. “We did our best.” She glances between her girls wondering how long before this descends into a versus match and what side she’ll land on. Lexa is softly breaking and hiding none of it, knowing she caused harm, clearly ready to take any fault thrown at her, and Clarke and Octavia are arguing the same thing she’s been saying for months, they should have been out before today. Raven doesn’t let go of Octavia’s hand, but she doesn’t move closer to her either.

Lexa nods and takes in a breath as if that might steady her. It doesn’t. “It’s my fault we’re hurting like this right now, my own insecurities kept us in the closet. I’m thankful that you gave me time and space to find my way, but I took too much.”

The old familiar desire to run swirls inside Lexa. It’s easier to run than to face the pain than to demand answers, than to give them. “Raven, earlier, you were right, I’ve been selfish. I caused each of you to question this relationship or yourself in some which isn’t right. Octavia… you’ve tried to bend yourself into impossible shapes to fit into the reality I thought I needed. I don’t know how you didn’t break.”

Looking at her girlfriends she nearly breaks. Raven is so careful, neutral, and yet there’s an undercurrent that makes her warm eyes cold. Octavia is tired and uncertain, so unlike her; she leans into Clarke as much as she’s holding her up. Clarke is fire, burning up, ready to light the world up and watch it fall to ash around her before she falls.

And fall they will.

“I don’t know how I’ll make this up to you all, but I want to try. I’m incredibly fortunate to have found the three of you, that you love me enough to put up with my choice for so long when it wasn’t at all what you wanted or needed…” she stands up, arms wrapping around her waist as she turns away from her girlfriends. She needs a moment where she doesn’t see their pain, but she can feel their gaze on her back and she makes herself turn around, deciding to face their pain. If they can feel it she can bear it.

Octavia feels a cold creeping up from the depth of her gut. There’s something in Lexa’s tone that scares her. “Lexa?”

Raven squeezes Octavia’s hand and takes half a step closer, she hears it too. “What are you trying to say, Lexa, because it sounds like you’re…” she can’t get the words out. After everything today she isn’t prepared for another emotional upheaval.

“It sounds like you’re talking yourself into breaking up with us.” Clarke’s words are almost flat. The thought knocks the wind out of her, blowing out the fire that was keeping her afloat, and she feels like she’s plummeting. As tough as things are she doesn’t want to face them without the four of them together.

“No!” Lexa practically shouts. She reaches out and takes two steps back toward her three girlfriends, but she stops short knowing she can’t just collapse into their arms and proclaim love and promise things will be better. Leaving them is the last thing she wants.

“No,” she says more softly. “I just don’t know how to make amends for this. I don’t know how I make this better.” Her hands are clenched into fists as if that will hold her together. “I can’t undo what happened but I know I’m willing to spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to the three of you.”

Silence falls with Lexa’s last word but with it some of the tension drains. The three shift, breathing space between them.

“Now it sounds an awful lot like you’re working your way into a proposal.” Clarke leans her head against Octavia’s, there’s a hint of a laugh lining her eyes.

“Shit,” Lexa curses softly but with a lot of feeling. She drags her hand down her face and paces, a small litany of expletives tumbling from her lips. “Nothing is coming out right… I can’t start an apology and a proposal in the same breath. I’m trying to promise to make things better because I’ve been letting my fear dictate my actions, and that has hurt us.” Lexa doesn’t know where to go next, what to say, the words are right there but she feels them caught on the back of her tongue and she can’t breathe past them, the truth trying to choke her when it should be setting her free.

This is what Anya has been pushing her to acknowledge that she keeps skirting around hoping if she ignores the feeling long enough it will go away. That maybe, if she just keeps acting like it isn’t true, it will dissolve into her past where it belongs.

Except now, with half an apology on the table she’s more afraid than ever that coming out will have cost her their relationship and at the end of the night she’ll be alone again.

Raven reaches out and trails a finger down Lexa’s arm, “What are you afraid of?”

Octavia watches as fear flicks across Lexa’s face even as she squares her shoulders and sets her jaw like she’s fighting herself. It’s in the way she shrinks away even as she tries to move closer to them. Lexa hasn’t reached out since this conversation started, instead isolating herself, pulling inward. She’s isolating herself before the choice to be isolated is made for her.

It makes sense now, not that knowing why changes anything, if she’s right, but Octavia feels that she understands why Lexa fought so hard to stay in the closet. Their fears were the same but Lexa’s run much deeper, clawing into her core so intently that the only way to survive is to look away.

Octavia presses a kiss to Clarke’s temple and squeezes Raven’s hand before she moves between them to pull Lexa back into the circle. 

“We’re not going anywhere,” she says softly holding onto Lexa’s arms. She can feel Lexa trembling under her touch, not enough for it to be visible, but enough that Octavia knows she’s hit at the nerve of the issue.

“What if this is how it’s going to be now that we’re out, constantly battling other’s opinions of us, and fighting because of the pressure it puts on us? I don’t think I could stand it if it pushed us apart.” Lexa reaches out gently and catches her fingertips around Octavia’s shirt, just pulling her a fraction of an inch closer. “I’ve lost too many people that just walked away and didn’t want me anymore, and I can’t stop this feeling in my gut that someday I’m going to lose us as well.”

Octavia slips her arms around Lexa, fitting herself into a hug, and pulling Lexa as close as possible.

Raven presses to Lexa’s side. “Whoa there, you’re brain is working overtime and running away with you.”

Clarke reaches out for Lexa’s hand, entwining their fingers. “You trust us, Lex, right?”

Lexa feels halfway on the verge of breakdown and all she can do is nod. She lets them hold her, willing her racing heart to slow. Underneath the panic of the truth sits guilt. Clarke’s question stings more than she wants it to. “Yes. I do, of course I do.”

Octavia runs her hands in soothing patterns along Lexa’s back. “Then trust us in this and don’t run away just to keep something else from pushing us apart.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Raven presses a kiss to the top of Lexa’s shoulder, “Not without you.”

Lexa nods frantically, trying to pull herself back together and make it so she isn’t the center of attention right now. She needs to make up for what she’s pushed on them, not be comforted for it right now. “I need to breathe, we have to get back out there,” Lexa turns away, walking in a small tight circle as she tries to breathe through the tears and convince them not to fall. 

“Let them wonder what we’re up to, just makes us all the more interesting,” Raven says with a small laugh.

Lexa keeps turning right back into the three sets of waiting arms. She lets out a choking sob, “I’m sorry.”

The four of them tangle together, comforting each other, hands on arms and backs, lips pressed to shoulders, foreheads, and cheeks. It’s a mess of wanting to be closer but not being able to coordinate so many limbs and bodies standing. From here they move forward, they figure out how to heal and how to grow. No matter how good life seems to get there will always be something that tests them.

“What about you?” Clarke asks as she nudges Raven’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Raven tilts her head and kisses Clarke softly, “A little emotionally strung out, but I can rally. Wick is gone for now.”

Octavia leans over and kisses Raven’s temple. “He’s gone for as long as we can make possible, which is hopefully forever.”

“Clarke?” Lexa asks. She shifts, brushing her fingertips across Clarke’s cheeks and pulling her close. 

“Sneaking out the back would be frowned upon, wouldn’t it?”

“Probably,” Octavia answers.

Clarke rolls her neck and closes her eyes. She wants to curl up in bed with her girls, talk through this from the safety of their warm cocoon of blankets. Still, they have a long night ahead of them which she wants as well. This has been the night she’s been waiting for and she doesn’t want to miss it. “If we’re okay, we should go back out.  _ We _ are okay… right?”

“Not going anywhere,” Octavia murmurs.

“Right where I want to be,” Raven says as she wriggles closer to the center of the hug.

“You three are all I want and I’ll spend as long as it takes making this up to you all.” Lexa ducks her head but feels three sets of arms tighten around her nonetheless.

“First step, stop putting all this on yourself,” Raven leans in and kisses Lexa’s cheek.

Octavia pulls Lexa down for a kiss, “No matter what, we’re together, and that’s what matters. We survived Christmas, we can get through tonight.”

“We can talk about penance later,” Clarke jokes, as she grins and bites down on Lexa’s shoulder, not quite hard enough to leave a mark, but enough to make her point. They’re okay, or they will be. They’re still in love and they’re all still willing to work to make this right.

##  _______________________________________

 

It takes another fifteen minutes to retouch makeup and for Anya to scrounge up Raven a clean emergency pair of underwear. She doesn’t ask just goes through the bags of clothes in her car until she finds something that will fit. When they’re done it almost looks like they haven’t been run through the wringer that afternoon, like they don’t want to hit pause on life so they can get ahold of their feelings.

This time they hover closer to each other, hands clasped, on the small of someone’s back, barely there kisses on cheeks to not leave a lipstick stain. Even standing in different conversations they don’t stray far from each other, their backs nearly pressed together. 

It’s the same dance as before, but it’s smaller, tighter, better in control. Being out is new still, and there’s strength in standing together in this. Their scattered choreography of earlier in the day left them vulnerable when adversity cornered them. They lost the thread, and each other, it was a quieter statement but there’s nothing quiet about what what happened to them today.

The truth of that is clear in the questions their facing from their friends and the other patrons. They answer simply in not stepping away from each other, it makes the repetitious rehashing of the pain easier. And they can focus on moving the conversation back where it should have been all night: on Clarke and her art.

Still, every time the front door opens Raven flinches and one of the girls reaches for her. Every time someone new approaches Lexa does a double check to ensure it isn’t Costia. 

Lexa’s almost entirely forgotten that Indra had shown up earlier that day until she’s standing in front of her again. It’s like a lifetime has passed between then and now, as if she’s lived that last few years of her life over that day. Lexa reaches out and loops her arm around Clarke’s waist and waits until she feels Clarke shift and turn before she pulls her close.

“Quite the evening you four have had,” Indra deadpans.

Clarke takes a sip of the water in her hand and laughs lightly, “Nothing we can’t handle together.” She reaches behind her and finds Octavia’s hand to tug her close, Lexa does the same with Raven. They settle in together standing close, just barely touching, it’s enough though.

“And how are you?” Indra turns to Raven with an intense look. “Raven, yes?”

Raven nods and meets Indra’s gaze, not looking to Lexa even though she wants to. “I’m here, he’s not. So that’s always a good start.”

Indra opens the small clutch in her hand and pulls out a business card between her index and middle fingers, “If you need any legal help, let me know.” She almost smiles. “I realize you could just ask Lexa, but your partner has a tendency to get intense when she’s passionate about a case, and it might be best for all of us if I just took this one for the start. That way you four can focus on supporting each other.”

Raven takes the card and flips it over, looking at it, wondering where she can put it that isn’t her bra. “Thank you, your offer is incredibly generous.” 

Clarke reaches across Lexa and takes the card from Raven, slipping it into her pocket.

“Lexa is one of my best, I consider this an investment in her well being.” Indra inclines her head.

“Thank you, Indra.” Lexa says softly. Clarke and Octavia echo the sentiment.

“As for you, Clarke.” Indra turns to her sharply. “I’ve talked with Kane about payment but I wanted to talk with you one last time about which pieces you think should be in the collection at Trikru Associates.”

“Of course,” Clarke takes half a step forward as she swallows thickly. There’s something about Lexa’s boss that makes her more nervous than normal clients. She feels Octavia step with her and she breathes out. “Have you decided on any pieces you wanted yourself?”

“ _ Reflection _ of course.” Indra intones.

“With that one then, I might look to  _ Memories _ or  _ Abstracts of Wonder _ . Both are, if not stylistically, thematically similar.” Clarke gestures to where the paintings hang.

“And what of the centerpiece?” Indra turns to look at the four canvas installation behind them at the apex of the gallery.

Clarke swallows a mouthful of water and tries to keep the surprise from her voice and face. That piece alone would pay their mortgage and bills for at least a month. She hadn’t even hoped to have an offer on it tonight, let alone at all. “My only requirement is that the pieces not be hung separately. While there are four canvases,  _ Anatomy of Love _ is one painting.” 

_ Anatomy of Love _ looms over the space, golds and oranges fading into magenta and deep lavender, there’s a bright red that bisects the middle, the curves and colors flowing together, each piece entirely abstract, almost something, almost recognizable, but together when viewed with intense calm it’s clear that the image is four hands, fingers hooked together.

“It would be a disservice to your art to show it in any other way but the one intended. I’ll inform Kane of which pieces I want. You’re going to be big Clarke, I know talent when I see it - and I like to keep it close at hand - your success won’t be because of the burst of excitement that will follow tonight, and the inevitable scandal that someone will try to paint. Your paintings speak louder than that, and the four of you have more grace than to let something like this tarnish your actions. Keep that in mind in the coming days, and you have my card if you need it.”

Clarke can barely whisper a thank you before Indra excuses herself and disappears into the crowd, a dark jewel, strong and powerful, only glittering when looked at closely. Clarke slips her hand into Lexa’s as they turn to walk back to Raven and Octavia. She’s stunned and leans into her girlfriends letting them support her. She’s close to what she promised when she asked if she could quit her job to paint full time. If Indra’s right by the end of the night the hustle will have been worth it.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia winds her way back through the crowd, the later into the night they get the busier the gallery becomes filled with everyone from young artists in jeans and t-shirts to socialites in fancy dress. Twenty minutes ago she slipped away from Clarke, Lexa, and Raven to grab them new bottles of water, and it took her half of that just to get close to the drinks table. On her way back she’d run into Lincoln who had just returned from the station. A quick glance outside telling her it was late, with the summer sun already beneath the horizon, though the sky was not yet dark.

She dodges around a couple meandering through the space paying no one any attention as they wave their glasses of complimentary champagne around and finds herself stopped by a woman about her own age, rich warm skin, freckles and a hesitant look in her eyes. Octavia glances at the hand laid gently on her arm. It’s removed quickly, as if the woman is afraid to offend her.

“You’re… Lexa’s girlfriend?” she asks.

“One of them.” Octavia replies carefully. “You’re Costia?”

The woman nods and extends her hand only to drop it as she registers that Octavia’s own are full. “And this is my wife, Echo. I was hoping to speak with Lexa one more time before we left. I realize tonight has been busy for… the four of you.” Costia says evenly like she’s trying to process the nature of their relationship still, not quite sure how she feels herself, but trying not to offend.

“Busy… that’s one way of putting it. I’m just heading back to her and Clarke and Raven, you can follow me. I’m Octavia by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Octavia.” Echo smiles and wraps her arm around Costia as they start to make their way through the crowd.

Octavia curls into Raven’s side for a brief moment as she hands her a bottle of water, then rests her chin against Clarke’s shoulder as she passes behind her and passes another off before wrapping an arm around Lexa’s waist and handing her the last of the waters as she whispers in her ear, “Costia wants to talk to you.”

Lexa turns, bringing Octavia with her as she disengages from the conversation she’s been having with a stranger. She promised Costia she’d be back and the evening has done nothing but run away with her.

“Hey, sorry to keep you waiting, it’s been a little crazy,” Lexa cracks open the bottle of sparkling water and takes a sip.

Costia leans into Echo for a moment before straightening up, as if she doesn’t want to appear overly clingy. “No, I don’t mind having to wait…” She bites her lip, an old habit Lexa knows that means she’s thinking intently. “I just wanted to say that it was good to see you, and I didn’t want you to think I just left,” the upspoken  _ again  _ hangs between them.

Lexa forces herself to smile slightly. She’s not so much afraid of a poor reaction, they’ve handled that in the past, but now she needs to stand by her promise. If she doesn’t start now, try and fail though she might, her words will be hollow. “It’s good you stayed because now you can meet my girlfriends. You already met Octavia,” Lexa turns and tugs on Raven’s elbow until she moves closer. Raven in turn signals Clarke to bow out of the conversation she’s in. “This is Raven, and I think you may have met Clarke earlier.”

“Yes, she greeted us when we arrived, right before all the excitement.” Costia speaks softly as if she doesn’t want to disturb the air around her.

Octavia snorts. “You have a way for understatement.”

“I think unmitigated disaster is the phrase you’re looking for,” Raven rolls her eyes with a laugh.

“What’s a disaster?” Clarke asks as she turns to the group, leaning into Lexa and Octavia.     “Aside from my sleep schedule, that is.”

“The laundry room.” Octavia deadpans. 

Clarke smacks her in the shoulder, “I promise I’ll start on laundry once I recover from today.”

“So next weekend,” Octavia grins and pecks Clarke on the cheek. Clarke just rolls her eyes.

“We were talking about Wick’s grand entry and exit.” Raven says as she leans into Lexa’s side.

“Ah, yes.” Clarke puffs out her cheeks as she exhales.

For a few seconds the silence stretches between the six of them, no one quite knowing where to go from there.

Costia breaks the silence. “You’re all together? I don’t mean to be insensitive. I’ve just never met anyone who was poly… who was out.” She pauses like she doesn’t know where to go or what to ask or what should be said. Almost as if she’s afraid to say what’s really on her mind. “Lex… how...” She trails off, lost and confused.

Clarke’s eyes widen, she’s the only one that shortens Lexa’s name. It sounds foreign and wrong in Costia’s voice, as if she hasn’t earned the right to say her name like that. It sits wrong with her even though she knows that Costia was in Lexa’s life for a long time. She feels the hair stand up on the back of her arms and the only thing that calms her is Lexa’s hand alighting on the small of her back, fingers sneaking up under the edge of her blazer to run across the bare skin above her waistband.

Lexa breathes in through her nose because she knows Costia at her core and the trailing sentences, the politeness, it means she sees something that makes her uncomfortable even though she knows it shouldn’t. It means she’s trying. Lexa isn’t sure if it matters to her right then. Costia has already asked for forgiveness tonight, and she isn’t sure she’s any more willing to give an explanation.

“These are my girlfriends,” Lexa shrugs like it’s evident and obvious. “We’ve got a house in south east, and a giant california king, and the baby grand that Anya wouldn’t get rid of.”

Costia bites her lip and sucks on her teeth. “It’s serious then?”

“It is,” she says softly.

Costia nods firmly and reaches down for Echo’s hand.

Clarke drapes herself on Lexa’s arm pointedly, “We wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Even if it gets pretty messy sometimes,” Raven wraps her arms around Octavia’s waist, resting her chin on her shoulder and tilting her head to look at Lexa.

“There’s four of us to clean it up.” Octavia grins as she slips an arm around Lexa’s waist.

They take comfort in the closeness, as if it’s more a show of solidarity as much as it is a reminder to themselves.

“I don’t regret our break up, Cos,” the nickname slips out before Lexa can stop it. “But I regret what I let it do to me after. I made a lot of mistakes because I thought you walking away like you did had something to do with me.” She shrugs. Costia meets her gaze and neither of them move to break the eye contact acknowledging the pain they both caused.

Lexa wants to dismiss it like it’s a thing of the past, as if it hasn’t been plaguing her and twisting her up, and causing problems for her for the past eight years. That it wasn’t the reason they had all sequestered themselves in Kane’s office, Lexa feeling like everything was slipping through her fingers as the full force of the damage that had been done hit her.

The scar left by being abandoned was thick and ran deep, it wasn’t just the cut that Costia made, leaving the way she did, but losing her and Anya’s adopted parents, each foster family that passed them along, her own parents not even in her memory. She doesn’t acknowledge it, just assumes that everyone will leave eventually and it will break her heart. Something changes and then the person is gone and she doesn’t know how to handle that.

So she avoids changes to that status quo. Coming out, to Lexa, was a change too large to be surmountable, and she had convinced herself that it would leave their relationship irreparably broken. She had given herself reasons, written arguments in her head to keep herself from thinking about the end result as thinking about that would only make her want to run.

Now it’s clear that her inflexibility would have cost Lexa her relationship.

Lexa loops her pinky finger around Octavia’s as she continues, needing to find some kind of common ground that doesn’t send her head spinning. “Are you living in the city again?”

Echo leans into Costia, “It’s home base for now because this one spends most of the year travelling and playing in the dirt.”

“It’s not  _ playing- _ ”

“Shhh. I know. You’re an accomplished anthropologist.” Echo corrects herself with a small laugh.

“Ah, so a professional grave robber,” Raven quips.

There’s a pause. Clarke and Octavia bite back laughter. Lexa is halfway between laughing and wondering if she should apologize because what if Costia isn’t enough of the same person she knew and takes offense.

Costia bursts out laughing, it’s a raucous sound that bounces off the ceiling and turns heads.

“Yes, I rob graves and play in the dirt,” Costia smiles up at Echo and sighs contentedly. “It’s not a half bad life.”

The shift is almost unnoticeable, it’s just a small release of tension, enough room that they can move again without crashing into each other. The six of them can stop tip-toeing around and be themselves with a little less apprehension.

“I’m usually covered in more paint that a three year old finger painting,” Clarke offers up. It’s easier to navigate the conversation if they aren’t on edge. Exes are never easy to talk to the next time you see them after a break up, that gap being eight years wide makes this unknown territory.

“It’s true,” Lexa deadpans.

“Well, you clean up nicely,” Echo teases. 

The conversation shifts to jobs and hobbies and careers and plans, all the polite safe things old friends talk about and new friends want to know, even though there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty still in what they’re doing. It may merely be politesse, but it may blossom into more.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven is the first of the four of them to notice Gina walk into the gallery looking uncertain. In the past six months they’ve only seen her a handful of times as a group, though Raven and Niylah had met with her for lunch on occasion. She’s been instant that as long as she’s still with Bellamy she doesn’t want to complicate things, and until he’s ready to reach back out she’s felt trapped.

“Hey,” Raven beams as she reaches out and pulls Gina into a hug. Gina responds in kind with a soul crushing grip.

“Long time, no see.”

“Yeah,” Raven shoves her playfully in the shoulder. “And whose fault is that?”

“I know,” Gina holds up her hands in mock surrender. “I know.”

“I was starting to think we weren’t going to see you tonight, you missed all the fun.” Raven steers them toward the refreshments table and hands Gina a glass of champagne.

“What do you mean by  _ fun _ ?” She puts air quotes around the word. “Because the way you say it doesn’t make me think of anything  _ good _ .”

Raven steals Gina’s champagne and takes a sip before handing it back, “So remember my ex?”

“The stalker?”

“That’s the one.”

“No.”

“Yup.” Raven shakes her head, “Octavia’s got a scraped knee from tackling him and he’s in jail again.” She turns and points to her Lexa and Octavia who are still talking to Costia and Echo. “See the pretty girl with the afro talking to Lexa?”

“Uh yeah, she’s stunning and kinda hard to miss.”

“That would be Costia, Lexa’s ex.” Raven leans on her Gina, her forearm against the taller woman’s shoulder. “And the blonde is her wife.”

“I really did miss all the fun,” Gina says taking a sip of champagne. “How are things going aside from drama with the exes?”

“Good, I think. People seem to be liking Clarke’s art.” Raven can’t keep the pride out of voice. “She did it, she really fucking did it.” She watches Clarke talking to a small circle of patrons and warmth radiates out from her chest, heart feeling like it might melt through her sternum, to warm and too big to be held. Raven shakes her head and breaks herself out of her reverie. “So where’ve you been all night?”

Gina tips back the last of the champagne and looks down at the floor as she reaches into her bag. When she looks up again she rests her chin on Raven’s forearm and holds out a letter. “Bellamy was agonizing over whether or not he was going to come.”

Raven takes the letter carefully and reads Octavia’s name on the outside.

“He didn’t want to cause problems tonight.” Gina straightens up. “He wants to talk with Octavia, apologize. And you. And Clarke. And Lexa.”

Raven flips the letter over in her hands, mildly annoyed that Bellamy’s sent Gina as his errand girl.

“I offered to bring the letter, okay?” Gina flicks the envelope with her forefinger. “I was going to come anyway and I was tired of him pacing and torturing himself.”

“Why not just wait and come see us tomorrow at home?”

“He doesn’t think you’ll see him, any of you, that he waited to long.” Gina crosses her arms and faces Raven.

“He has,” she mutters. Raven runs her hand through her hair and shakes it out. “I know, I know. You don’t do this, this inbetween bullshit. Which I appreciate and respect, but if he’s going to start doing this,” Raven holds up the letter, “Then he isn’t listening to you.”

Gina stares down Raven, not wavering but she raises an eyebrow and starts moving towards the rest of their friends, “Can we talk about this later? I just want to be here for Clarke.”

Raven glances down at the letter in her hands tapping it a few times before she folds it in half before shoving it inter her pocket. She’ll give Octavia the letter later, for now they have friends and celebrating to attend to.

##  _______________________________________

 

Not every conversation that night went well. There was an older woman that tried to lecture them about promiscuity until Lexa flatly pointed out that by the fact alone that since starting to date each other they were faithful to their relationship there was nothing casual about what they did, they were in a serious committed relationship and they had never cheated on each other that they could not, in fact, be promiscuous. The woman had snapped her mouth shut and walked out the front door. An older gentleman had tried to make a joke about how they must have broken a lot of boys hearts. He had laughed at his own story until their blank stares had sent him wandering off. Most people though were kind, though there were those that were over curious, wanting to know too much about how their relationship worked. Raven countered them with a rapid fire inquisition about their love life. Most squirmed and apologize.

It made for an interesting evening,

Clarke is ready for the night to be done, or at least to sit down, her feet aching in the heels she’s been running around in all night. She’s been slowly trying to nudge the four of them toward the couches in the back of the gallery for the past half hour but someone would cut them off before they’d made it five steps. Of course the last thing she wants to do is complain that her first gallery show is busy and didn’t fall apart the second the cops showed up.

She’s just about to make another break when Abby moves into her line of sight. 

“Can I borrow my daughter for a moment?” Abby smiles sweetly at the couple that have been discussing Clarke’s artistic influences with her for the past fifteen minutes. Clarke matches the smile and excuses herself leaving her girls to ramble on about her musical choices and hopefully leaving out that she frequently has Disney sing alongs with herself when she’s home alone.

It feels like it’s been a lifetime since Abby last pulled her aside and Clarke pointed out Lexa’s ex. “Is Kane ready for me to address the crowd now that things have kind of settled down?” She doesn’t really want to talk to the crowd having practically addressed each of the individually already trying to feel out the drama and reaction and waiting for the excitement to die down a little.

“Have they?” Abby asks. She steps closer, lowering her voice, “I mean, really, between Wick and Lexa breaking the champagne glass when she saw Costia the crowd has been buzzing with the excitement of it all.”

Clarke shrugs her shoulders and puffs out her cheeks as she exhales, “We’re handling it.”

At least as best they can, there’s only so much they can do without getting to recharge their emotional energy. Standing shoulder to shoulder with her mother she’s tempted to lean into her, lean her head on her mother’s shoulder and just close her eyes for a few moments if only to feel at peace for a few seconds. She doesn’t though, there’s still a thin wall up between them, it’s nearly clear, sometimes they forget it’s there, and then, at times like this, it feels like they’re miles apart.

“And you… how are you handling things?” Abby sips at her champagne but Clarke can tell it’s to cover up the nervousness.

Clarke pauses and turns fully to Abby. She can hear the hesitation in the question because it’s everything the two of them skirt around. Abby long ago stopped pushing questions about Clarke’s mental health on her. In the past they had fought one too many times, hurt each other more times than either cares to remember.

“I’ll be fine, mom,” Clarke smiles softly. She knows the words can sound petulant and like she doesn’t want to talk. There’s a part of her that would like to never bring this up again, but her therapist says it’d be healing for her to open up to her mother again, carefully, slowly, of course. “Really. Things have been good lately, even with the bad days.”

“I just worry.” Abby reaches out and squeezes Clarke’s forearm, “I know you don’t do medication or therapy but there’s so much that’s happened this past year, what with Octavia and Raven, and who knows what I haven’t heard…”

Clarke sucks in a breath because this is an opportunity, an opportunity where she doesn’t have to start a conversation just to say the thing. This is what Becca would call a trying moment, a moment where she can try to do the thing that scares her, a moment that will try her resolve. The words come out of her mouth twisting and barbed, but the truth is in them, “I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

“Who?” Abby asks. It’s all she can ask and Clarke knows it. They both know if it weren’t going well that Clarke would have said nothing at all, there would be no implication that she is still going. Still the questions hits Clarke as intrusive and raises every alarm bell she has because she doesn’t want her mother near this.

Clarke shakes her head, “No, you don’t get that. You don’t get to be a part of my treatment this time. I… I can’t have that.” She clenches her jaw, not out of anger, but fear. Pursing her lips she doesn’t drop her mother’s gaze. “I’ve been working with my therapist since November, no medication, I’m not doing that again… but we’re making progress.”

Abby looks away first, sucking on her teeth and nodding her head. “Okay, that’s… fair.” She looks for several minutes like she might argue or push it but each time she opens her mouth she closes it again before she says anything, in the end she simply says that she’s happy for Clarke. “And the fact that I’m with Kane, you’re really okay with that?”

“You’re happy, yeah?”

“I am,” Abby bites her lip and there’s a brightness in her eyes that Clarke hasn’t seen in a long time.

“Then we’re good.” Clarke laughs, “Besides I know where the guy works.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Fifteen minutes later Clarke finds herself walking away from Kane, her mother and her girlfriends to somewhere that could vaguely be described as the front of the gallery. Her heels click on the concrete floor but the sound is almost lost to the din of the crowd. She takes her place, what she’s deciding is her place, anyway, as there is no formal platform or designated spaces for her to speak from, but she stops at what she feels is the apex of the center arc of the gallery.

There’s a new glass of champagne in her hand, to toast with. She’s supposed to make a speech, hopefully tying the night together and alleviating any worry about the events that have transpired, though the people that would be bothered by the supposed scandal of the evening are long gone. Left are those that either don’t mind, or want more details to tell their friends that didn’t make it out that night.

Clarke knew this could happen, that her relationship would be more of a hot topic than her art, but she has half an idea about how she might cement the two as entwined in people’s minds. Half an idea is about all she ever has before she dives in. 

Flagging down a passing waiter she procures a butter knife to clink against the glass, and prays she doesn’t shatter it in the process, delicate sophistication is not her forte, that’s more Lexa’s purview. 

Somehow it works, the glass rings clear and loud and conversations putter out, voices becoming no more than murmurs until a hush spreads over the entire gallery. People turn, stepping closer, it’s a wave of power that carries Clarke forward. She feels like she’s watching it all go down even as she clears her throat to speak, first thanking people for coming, introducing herself, as if she hadn’t spoken to nearly everyone already. Words keep pouring from her mouth and she isn’t sure from where they spring, just that she seems to be on the right track

“For those of you that have been here all night you probably thought there’d be some nice art on the walls, a few drinks, maybe have a few laughs with your friends. I know you weren’t expecting the drama, and the tears, or the police.” Clarke pauses and lets the polite laughter ripple through the crowd. “We weren’t either,” she winks at that, somehow starting to find her stride even as her heart races. She searches out her girlfriends in the crowd, looking to the them for strength. “But life can be rather unexpected like that. Many of you have surmised, and commented on, an aspect of my life that hasn’t had a lot of public discussion in the past.”

Clarke switches hands holding the champagne, both threatening to shake. Every cruel thing that’s been said to them over the past six months about coming out tries to shout out the good echoing around in her head. She holds Octavia’s gaze for a second longer than she should and draws on her girlfriend’s pride. This is the day she’s been waiting for and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“I’ve come to know many of you over the past few years working as Kane’s assistant here at Gallery 2149. You know me, my passions, my hobbies, my art… clearly.” Clarke waves a hand around to the walls surrounding them. There’s more laughter, “Until tonight though you didn’t know my girlfriends, or, I should say you didn’t know that they were my girlfriends. And yes, that’s girlfriends, with an s, plural.” Clarke looks around at faces she knows and faces she doesn’t and holds her breath waiting for someone to make her regret rambling down this path. The room stays silent, rapt attention. She raises her empty hand and points to Lexa and Octavia and Raven who are leaning on each other, listening to her speak. “The three of them are standing over there, probably wishing they could vanish into the crowd about right now.”

“I’m good,” Raven grins and it wrinkles her nose. The light hearted fun, the pride in her voice draws a soft reaction from the crowd.

“Without these three I wouldn’t have made it this far.” The nerves hit her again in that moment, and she wishes she had brought her girlfriends with her or just started her speech from the other side of the gallery where they were all standing. It’s too late for that now, she’s in it and there’s no stopping, the only way out is through to the end. “Kane came up to me one night as I was closing up and pitched a gallery show to me. This one. I was so beside myself I went home and asked my girlfriends if I it would be okay to quit my main job and paint full time. I’m really lucky that they said yes.” Clarke lifts her glass of champagne up in the air and watches as the crowd starts to do the same. “So while you may raise your glass to me, or my art, or just some good rubberneck worthy drama,” she pauses for the small pattering of polite laughter that she will never be used to, “I raise my glass to them. My loves, my inspiration.” 

A garbled cheer goes up, clinking glasses and happy voices, as everyone sips champagne Clarke takes the opportunity to wrap up what she has to say. “Thank you for coming out tonight, for staying, for showing up fashionably late and only getting the embellished story version. I’m sure the story that runs in tomorrow’s paper will be even more riveting. So enjoy, finish the food, drink the champagne, buy yourself a painting, and get home safe.”

She finishes and pauses, and like the spotlight has gone out on a stage, everyone turns away, talking to the person next to them. Clarke keeps her eyes down as she presses through the crowd trying to get back to her girlfriends and her family. 

Kane and her mother are standing with her girlfriends.

“Kane, I’m never doing another one of those again,” Clarke tips back the rest of the champagne glass, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. Now that it’s over she can feel the adrenaline coursing through her and she wants to feel back in her body instead of floating somewhere nearby.

“You ramble nicely, babe,” Octavia takes the empty champagne flute and hands it to a passing waiter as she wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist. Her next words are whispered only loud enough for Clarke to hear, “I’m so very proud of you.”

“It was very sweet,” Abby raises her glass and the others do the same, everyone giving a small  _ to Clarke _ as their glasses clink together.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember that we wrote queue cards.” Kane winks and pulls a small stack of index cards from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“Why didn’t you hand them to me?” Clarke looks at him, mortified.

He laughs, “You went off on a mission and started talking before I could stop you.”

Clarke narrows her eyes, glad it’s over at the least, “Don’t let me do that again, ever.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa is stopped by two women with mischievous grins as she makes her way back across the gallery towards her girlfriends. One blonde, one brunette, one looking almost fairy like and the other like she lifts weights. There’s something in the way that they lean into each other that says the brunette spends most of her time lifting the blonde, also that maybe they’re a bit past tipsy.

The night is nearly over and Lexa’s ready to sit down and put her feet up and possibly not move for the next two days. Still, she smiles, and humors them, most anyone who was threatening to pose a problem has left long ago.

“You must be Lexa.” Says the one with brunette hair that looks like she might be able to benchpress Lexa.

Lexa raises an eyebrow wondering how the woman knows who she is. There’s something familiar in the address that makes her wonder if these are Clarke and Octavia’s friends. “Must I?”

“Okay, I like her already.” The blonde states with as much as a straight face as she can muster.

“And you are…” Lexa lets the question trail off.

“Harper,” the brunette extends her hand.

“Monroe,” the blonde gives a two finger salute.

“We used to live across the hall from Clarke and Octavia back in college.” Harper explains as she shakes Lexa’s hand.

“Basically all their wild adventures involved us.” Monroe grins.

“And then we left, I had Culinary school, which I aced by the way, so you should have us over so I can cook,” Harper rambles on a mile a minute, “But we’re back now, clearly.”

“Also, we ran into your sister? Really pretty, kind of terrifying?” Monroe looks around, bouncing on her heels.

Lexa snorts and chokes on a laugh. “That’s Anya.”

“Yes! That’s her name, I was too scared to ask again. Anyway, she and Niylah have a plan for tonight. Top Secret Mission. And we need your help.” As she talks Monroe’s voice gets quieter and she steps closer to Lexa. The whole exchange suddenly becoming conspiratorial. 

There’s something in the way the two of them lean in closer to her, the way they light up when the thought of whatever they’re about to let her in on crosses their minds. It’s alluring and she almost gives in, but the day has been exhausting and long and she knows she isn’t the only one of her girlfriends that wants their couch or their bed after a long shower so they can cuddle and rest.

“I’m not sure if another surprise is the best thing for today.” Lexa says even knowing that any resistance is futile if Anya is pulling in recruits.

“Oh, no! This is good. Niylah snuck out to go close down her bar and clean up. It’s an after party.” Monroe whispers.

Lexa nods. It makes sense, somewhere private, select guest list, people they trust, that they can relax around and celebrate tonight, celebrate Clarke and what she’s achieved, because Clarke deserves that. “Okay, but we’re gonna need a little bit more help...Raven!” 

Lexa grabs her girlfriend as she walks past, not giving her a choice but to come to a stop right between Lexa and Harper and Monroe.

Raven glances back and forth between them, “What’s up?”

“This is Harper and Monroe-”

“-Clarke and Octavia’s friends from back in the day?” Raven looks to the two still grinning women.

“Yep.” They reply in unison.

“They need our help with a surprise,” Lexa explains.

Raven leans slightly into Lexa, her voice dropping low like she’s already plotting, “Good thing they found us and not O.”

“That’s what we were thinking,” Monroe leans forward and starts to lay out the plan for the night.

##  _______________________________________

 

Lexa and Octavia are sat on stools with their backs to the bar. Raven’s sat a stool just in front of Lexa’s and is using Lexa a seat back to keep herself upright having had just about all the standing she can take for one day, especially on such a precarious limb as the one she had designed for the night. Clarke perches in front of Octavia, leaning back, her head, for the moment, lolled completely back as she contemplates the merits of just passing out.

Clarke and Raven hold hands lightly as do Lexa and Octavia. Lexa leans her head onto Octavia’s shoulder. If there were space they would be piled together, eyes closed, and hearts full. They’re pretty happy with one of three.

It’s just a little past midnight and they’ve traded the buzz of the gallery for the quieter subtler buzz of Niylah’s closed down bar. They’ve left behind the socialites and art buyers and brought their friends in for a private after party. This is the place that’s seen them all grow over the years from eager sophomoric college kids to adults just trying to do their best without losing themselves along the way. 

They’ve come so far since they first walked through those doors. 

Clarke isn’t twenty-one, trying to make it through college, barely clinging to her sanity some days, feeling like she will never have her feet underneath her again now that her dad is gone. Now she’s twenty-eight, amazed that she’s made it this far and feeling like this is only the beginning of the wonderful things that await her.

Octavia isn’t twenty-one and newly single finally meeting the girl her best friend has been casually hooking up with and wondering why she can’t get behind the idea herself. She’s twenty-eight and more content with herself than she ever believed possible.

Lexa isn’t twenty-seven, thinking she isn’t sure if she wants to risk making friends, knowing she can’t stop what’s about to happen without a lot of pain. She’s thirty and for the first time she feels like she has it within her make the choice to be truly happy.

Raven isn’t twenty-seven, losing herself and afraid she’ll never feel whole again. She’s twenty-nine, full of cocky confidence and sarcasm, and finding more of herself every day.

Their lives are entwined now, and somehow it’s more than just the four of them.

Surrounding them our their friends and family that together through everything have helped them build a home. Somewhere that they’ve learned how to love and trust, somewhere that they’ve learned how to catch each other when they fall. They aren’t islands moving through life alone, and their relationship is only a small cove in the safe harbor of their lives. 

“You survived,” Anya deadpans as she sets down a case of champagne on the bar. Lincoln sets several dozen cupcakes next to it.

Lexa opens her eyes and straightens up a little, one arm wrapping around Raven to hold her closer. “We did. The art show, coming out, Costia, Wick, all of it.”

Clarke rolls her head where it’s laying against Octavia’s shoulder to look at Lexa, she reaches out her and and lays it over top of Lexa and Octavia’s clasped hands. “We couldn’t have done it alone. Even though it was rough at times I’m glad we came out today.”

Raven turns her head and kisses the underside of Lexa’s jaw, “Me, too.”

“Took us long enough,” Octavia grumbles softly even as she squeezes Lexa’s hand. 

Arm tightening around Raven’s waist to keep her in place as she leans over, Lexa kisses Octavia’s cheek. Her nose brushes across Octavia’s cheekbone, as she settles there, forehead just barely resting against Octavia’s. “Which is my fault, and I’m sorry.”

Anya clears her throat and starts opening the first bottle of champagne. Behind the girls Niylah is setting up a row of glasses on the bar and filling them with liquor to make champagne cocktails in.

“Are you four going to cuddle all night or are we celebrating this properly?” Niylah jokes and pokes Octavia in the top of the head when she leans back to stick her tongue out.

Clarke makes a noise that sounds a bit like a no, “When the others get here we’ll move. You’re lucky there isn’t a couch, otherwise we wouldn’t move, ever.”

“Who’s all on their way?”

Lincoln answers from where he’s fiddling with the stereo system, “Abby and Kane once everything is closed down. Harper and Monroe, Jasper and Monty… and Echo and Costia.” 

The name hangs in the air for a second, “I was talking with them right before we left,” Anya slides up next to Lexa at the bar. “The after party slipped out, she wanted to come but wasn’t sure if you’d want her here.” Anya swallows and leans over to lay her head against Lexa’s. “I lost her too you know. I’ve missed her. I’m not saying all is forgiven, not in the least, but I want to see if our friend is still there, somewhere.”

Lexa leans into Anya, not letting go of her girls, and lets out a long sigh. “Me, too.”

Raven shifts on her stool so she’s looking back at both the Woods sisters, “Whatever life throws at us going forward, all of us,” she looks to her girlfriends, and to Lincoln and Niylah behind them. These past few years they’ve all grown so much, forgiven themselves, each other, learned to trust love and how to work through the curveballs life has thrown at them drawing them closer and closer. This isn’t the end of hardship, but it’s finding home, and knowing this is the end of going it alone, “We’re family now and we’re all in this together.”

_ Together _ , they echo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three more chapters guys, I really can't believe we're this close to the "end". this really has been an amazing past year sharing this story with all of you.


	36. I Asked if I Could Kiss You part 1 | 5 years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we jump back in time five years to when Clarke and Octavia got together... the Clarktavia origin story I've been promising you.

Clarke was onto her third beer for the night when Harper buys the first round of shots, one last hurrah before they bury themselves in last minute studying for finals and cranking out term papers that they’ve been neglecting. Not yet though. Tonight is about friends and taking a break from school for most of them.

Niylah sets the shots in a row on the bar and then pours one for herself. It’s the holiday weekend and almost no one is there except the mismatched group in front of her.

Monroe plops down in Harper’s lap. Lincoln reaches around them to grab a shot and hands one to Octavia. Bellamy slides onto the stool next to Clarke and the toasts start.

_ To the end of the term _ .

_ To holidays. _

_ To being done with this goddamn class. _

_ And never having to watch monkeys get it on again _ .

Evolution of Human Sexuality had been just a little too much for Harper.

“And to Niylah for pouring us the good stuff, when she could be giving us the well whiskey.” Clarke lifts her shot glass toward Niylah before she shoots it back.

“I’m drinking too, like I’m gonna serve myself something cheap.”

“Still, you’re saving us from the swill that the students can afford,” Lincoln winks at Clarke and shoots back his shot. He does his best to sneakily slip a twenty into the tip jar Niylah hasn’t even bothered to put out that’s hiding down near the maraschino cherries. Picking one up by the stem he holds it out to Octavia.

“Score! You found them!” Octavia bounces in place on her stool as she tosses the cherry into her mouth.

Niylah groans, “That’s it. For your birthday I’m just buying you a case of maraschino cherries and nothing else.”

Octavia pops the stem off the cherry and grins. “You know your way to a woman’s heart.”

“Yours is through your stomach,” Clarke quips.

“It’s a wonder I’ve kept you around all these years then,” Octavia grins and pops the cherry stem in her mouth to tie in a knot, by the end of the night, if Niylah doesn’t hide the cherries again, she’ll have a row of them on her napkin.

“I take offense to that, I  _ can _ cook.”

Octavia snorts. “Do I even need to bring up what happened in our kitchen last week that we still haven’t been able to clean up?”

Clarke grumbles into her beer, something incoherent and rude. “It isn’t  _ that _ bad.”

Octavia hops down off her stool with an amused smirk, “Not that bad, huh?”

Clarke steps down matching her toe to toe because she can see the mirth in Octavia’s eyes. They’ve already been over the disaster and Clarke is planning to clean… just as soon as she gets through finals. She knows though, that she may never live this one down, even so, if she’s going down she’s going down fighting. Metaphorically speaking.

“Okay, I kinda want to hear this story,” Harper leans in.

Clarke shakes her head at Octavia.

“Wait, does this have anything to do with the explosion we heard the other day?” Monroe asks.

Octavia laughs, loud and raucous and free. Clarke can feel her ears burning.

“No,” the singular sound is petulant. 

“By no she means yes,” Octavia teases.

“What exactly do you mean by explosion?” Bellamy raises an eyebrow.

“Well…” Clarke starts, scrunching up her face trying to figure out how to tell this story without sounding like she’s hopeless in the kitchen. “It started when Octavia bought a squash and decided we should have it for dinner.”

“Don’t put this on me,” Octavia holds up her hands in a plea of innocence.

“So I put it in the oven… and a couple hours later…”

“Boom!” Octavia claps her hands together and bursts them apart again.

“Boom,” Clarke mutters.

“Clarke,” Lincoln starts. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Did you… put the whole squash in the oven?”

Clarke leans on the bar and looks at Niylah, “I need another shot to drown out my shame.”

Monroe reaches out and places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. “I’ve failed you as a friend and future chef. This round’s on me.”

“You know, this might just be how Clarke and kitchens are, I distinctly remember a very burnt birthday cake with slightly runny icing one year.” Bellamy laughs.

“I was  _ thirteen _ ,” Clarke glares at Bellamy but she can’t hold it for long because Bellamy is grinning at her. “I did earn you like an ice cream cake that day.”

“Yeah, your dad felt pretty sorry for me.” Bellamy teases.

“That cake was inedible, Clarke.” Octavia nudges her shoulder.

Clarke rolls her eyes but nods in agreement. Niylah passes her a shot which she downs. “And at least the cake isn’t still stuck to the inside of the oven.”

“And therein lies the reason Clarke is never cooking again.” Octavia says shaking her head, her voice wistful and sad. “I can’t even bake a frozen pizza right now.”

The night continues on like that. Stories and memories and drinks winding around and knocking them all together. Friends passing time and the night, making something good out of the struggle just to get by. This is supposed to be when they’re finding themselves, building the foundation for the rest of forever and it’s never been more terrifying to feel adrift, but at least for an hour or two they can feel steady.

It’s just the eight of them in the bar by ten, still hours before closing. It feels later than it is. That might also have something to do with the fact that they started drinking early. It had at least been dark, but it was winter, and that meant any time after four thirty in the afternoon. Somewhere along the way Monroe had suggested they watch the sunrise from the apartment complex roof because it was a clear night out, and those were rare this time of year.

Lincoln had vetoed the idea because it was also below freezing out.

Clarke leans into Octavia, her arm slung across the other girl’s shoulders, her nose pressed to her cheek. She stopped counting somewhere around shot number five, promising herself this is the last party night until school work is done. Clarke presses a sloppy drunk kiss to Octavia’s cheek and giggles. “I still say we should climb somewhere for the sunrise.”

“Clarke, sunrise isn’t for like, eight hours or something ridiculous.” Octavia leans into Clarke to keep her upright.

“We’ve stayed up longer before.”

Octavia stumbles under her and Clarke’s combined weight, just the wrong side of not sober to be expected to hold them both up, but stone cold sober compared to Clarke. “It’s time to get you home I think.”

“Naaawwwww,” Clarke giggles, drawing out the word, and then hiccups. Her head is tumbling and she feels like she’s walking on a tightrope of emotion. She hiccups again and the spasm beats against her chest, more pain than it should be. Hiding her face against Octavia’s neck she hiccups again and tears sting her eyes, her fingers curl around Octavia’s hair. It’s like her stomach drops out and her heart crashes down and suddenly each hiccup hurts all that much more. The worst part of it is that she doesn’t know why. “Okay, maybe… yeah,” Clarke whispers the last.

“Hiccups again?” Niylah asks as she leans on the bar.

Octavia nods as she nudges Clarke off her shoulder and onto a barstool, but Clarke clings to her, whimpering each time she hiccups. “And the crash.”

Niylah glances around the bar, it’s mostly empty, and everyone that’s there is someone they know. “No last call tonight guys, sorry. Finish up and then we’re out.” She turns to Atom and says something Octavia can’t quite make out, but then she’s coming around the bar and coaxing Clarke to sit on her own. “I don’t know how she manages this… I swear she’s fine one minute and the next she’s nearly blacking out. You would think after two years I would have figured out how much she can drink…” Niylah is talking more to herself than anyone but Octavia feels compelled to answer.

“I don’t think she ate much today,” Octavia leans against the bar and rubs her hand against her eyes carefully, trying not to smudge what’s left of the day’s makeup, still keeping one hand on Clarke at all times. There’s something about Clarke needing help that always sobers her, always has. She just wants Clarke to be okay instead of struggling, but she’s learning how to weather the storms and get them through.

“Shit,” Niylah mutters.

“I’m fine,” Clarke says around a series of hiccups. She puts her hand on Niylah’s shoulder and half squints to bring her into focus. “I’ll-” -hiccup- “-be fine.”

“Sweetheart, you need bed, and water, and maybe some food in you too.” Niylah brushes back Clarke’s hair from her face.

“I can get her home,” Octavia says quietly. She checks her pockets for her wallet and phone and keys and then checks Clarke’s for the same.

“I’ll call you a cab.”

“Niylah, we live like five blocks away.”

“I’d feel better if you took a cab.”

“I can walk them.” Lincoln says. Octavia jumps as he sets a hand on Octavia’s shoulder. “It’s on my way, I’ll call a cab from theirs. Last time we put Clarke in a cab home it didn’t go well.”

“You know I’m right here,” Clarke slurs. “And I can get…” She pauses, screwing up her face, searching for the word she’s lost as her head swims and floats and she feels like she’s falling. “...home.” She reaches out and catches up Octavia’s hand in hers. “...just fine.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke and Octavia walked home tucked between Niylah and Lincoln cold nipping at them when Clarke would slow or stumble until at last Clarke relented and let Lincoln carry her the last few blocks then up the stairs. Harper and Monroe drunken and giggly and loud trail behind them singing songs off key.

Clarke stops Lincoln short at carrying her through the apartment to her bed. Her head is spinning and she’s only really half aware of the conversation happening around her so much that she jumps in surprise when Niylah pulls her into a hug. “Water,” Niylah kisses Clarke’s forehead. “And painkillers, and more water, and sleep.”

Octavia leans against the back of the couch her shoes already off, jacket slung next to her. Lincoln hands her a glass of water which she downs in three gulps, her cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s as she does. 

“Thanks,” she raises the empty glass before setting it on the side table. “I never would have gotten her up the stairs before midnight.”

“I’m sure between you and Harper and Monroe you would have made it work.” Lincoln retrieves the empty glass and moves the few steps over to fill it back up.

“We tried that once, disaster.” Octavia flops onto the couch so her legs are dangling over the back.

“Dropped me,” Clarke mumbles against Niylah’s shoulder.

Clarke leans into Niylah, lulled by the familiarity of Niylah’s arms and the safety there. There’s a deep sad ache that’s settled over her and she can feel it pulling her back down as her head swims. Each breath is like a new emotion and she doesn’t know where she’s going to land, but she know’s Niylah and her strength, knows she’s safe and that if she stays with her she’ll be okay. 

Pressing her nose to Niylah’s neck Clarke lets herself close her eyes. There’s a part of her that doesn’t want to be alone, wants to ask Niylah to stay. Her skin itches like she just needs to be closer to someone. In the back of her head she tries to remind herself that she and Niylah stopped hooking up, and that they’re only friends. It’s been more than a year. Still, Clarke doesn’t let go until she feels Niylah push gently at her shoulders.

Her body goes cold and she whines even as she complies.

“Bed,” Niylah admonishes, but her voice is soft.

Clarke gives her a thumbs up and turns to stumble toward her room.

Octavia watches Clarke disappear into her room and the sight tugs at her heart. Clarke’s been her best friend for more than half her life and they’ve been through hell and back together. She hates to see Clarke like this, when she breaks and falls apart and Octavia knows there isn’t much she can do because it happens on Clarke’s best days sometimes.

Somedays it still feels like they’re going through hell.

Sitting up she drinks down the second glass of water and sighs heavily. “I should go check on her and make sure she actually made it into bed. Thank you for getting us home.”

Niylah steps gingerly across the floor, avoiding the mess that’s accumulated there, and hugs Octavia tightly. “Give me a call if you need anything, I’ll come back over.”

Octavia hugs Lincoln goodbye and watches her friends leave, closing the door behind them. The apartment is silent and her ears ring with it. Nights out aren’t always like this, usually they end with the two of them cuddling on the couch or in one of their beds and giggling and trying to remember to take care of themselves but enjoying it all far too much until they pass out. She isn’t surprised though that tonight ended like this, with Clarke spiraling.

She really should get up and check on Clarke, but her heart is so heavy. Octavia curls into the couch and tugs a pillow to her chest. She’d give anything for Clarke to be okay, to stop hurting. She loves her too much to not break a little each time things get like this.

Octavia rolls off the couch. Multiple glasses of water, pain killers, a snack for morning, or whenever Clarke wakes up. She turns off the lights as she moves back across the apartment, locking the door as she goes. In Clarke’s room she shuffles her feet along the floor, afraid to lift them for fear of tripping over art supplies and clothes. Clarke’s room is studio and sleeping space all in one and it isn’t big enough for either, let alone both.

The lights are off and Clarke is crashed on top of her comforter, shoes still on. Setting down the water and the food she starts to make quick work of Clarke’s shoes, and socks. Clarke hates sleeping in socks. She does her best to move Clarke underneath the blankets without waking her but it’s no use.

Clarke groans and tries to move herself in such a way that she isn’t on the blankets but it doesn’t make it any less difficult. Clarke pushes at her leggings and Octavia helps her take them off. Twisting her arm behind her Clarke tries to undo her bra but she can’t work the clasp in her inebriated state.

“Free boobs,” she slurs.

Octavia chokes back a laugh and presses a kiss to the top of Clarke’s head. “Do you want a different shirt to sleep in too?”

Clarke makes a noise that sounds vaguely like a yes.

Between the two of them it only takes a few more minutes to get Clarke changed into something she feels is acceptable to sleep in and curled back up in bed. Somewhere in all the moving around she got half a glass of water in Clarke.

Sitting on the edge of the bed she smiles sadly down at Clarke, already half asleep. She brushes a mess of blonde back from Clarke’s face. 

Clarke looks peaceful like this, as if just for a little while the weight of her life isn’t pressing down on her. She’s relaxed, her muscles aren’t tense, she isn’t delicately trying to hold herself together. Clarke just is, and it pulls on Octavia’s heart.

There’s a yearning there that hasn’t been there before.

The love and hope for happiness has been there as long as she can remember, but this is new. She’s never looked at Clarke and  _ wanted _ . The feeling is altogether foreign and she isn’t even sure what it is exactly that she wants, just that she feels drawn in, and she wants to be skin close and maybe more.

Octavia stumbles to her feet and nearly trips over something on the floor. She doesn’t know how to feel what she’s feeling, and maybe it’s just that she’s a little bit drunk, and Clarke is the person that she’s closest to in the world, and it’s been more than a year since she and Lincoln broke up, but she would swear through all the haze in her head that what she really wants is to kiss Clarke.

She reminds herself she’s been drinking and she’s never had that thought sober. If she still has it in the morning she’ll let herself act on it.

“O?” Clarke’s voices is more rough than anything else.

“Yeah?”

Clarke reaches out her hand, “Don’t wanna be ‘lone.”

Octavia freezes. It isn’t like they haven’t shared a bed a hundred times before but she’s never had that thought before. Not like this. It would be better if she slept in her own bed, but Clarke has one eye half open and is trying to sit up.

“Lay back down,” Octavia presses against Clarke’s shoulder and she collapses back onto the bed. “I’m just going to change first.”

Her head swims as she strips, clothes lost to the mess on Clarke’s floor. She digs a tank top out of Clarke’s dresser and only bangs her shin once on a box of art supplies. Clarke is warm against her when she slips under the covers, immediately curling against Octavia’s chest.

She closes her eyes and threads her fingers through long wavy hair, regardless of what she wants, there’s no denying that this feels right. She tries to hold on to that as she’s lulled to sleep by the slow steady rhythm of Clarke’s breathing.

##  _______________________________________

 

All day Octavia’s been sprawled out on the couch with her feet pressed to Clarke’s thigh as she watches Netflix and nurses her hangover. There were a couple bowls of popcorn and a few bits of candy in there, a pizza during the late afternoon, but mostly just Netflix playing the next episode and Octavia not moving and Clarke hardly looked up from her studying.

There were a couple hours that Clarke might have been napping sitting up.

The intensity of the feeling in Octavia’s gut had not let up. Every time she looked at Clarke she was reminded of the moment the night before, the one that, in thirteen years of friendship, had never happened before. Octavia had always attributed it to the fact that she had only ever truly wanted to kiss one person before, and that had been Lincoln. It had never occurred to her that she might be attracted to women or maybe even just her best friend. 

In thirteen years they’d done everything together except kiss or be intimate all the things she’s never put much stock in. Except with Lincoln she reminds herself. He was the first person that made her body ache and want and now… it’s like she woke up and for the first time her eyes were opened because she’s always loved Clarke ever since they were kids. Clarke has been her safe haven, her home, her best friend.

This complicates things.

Octavia curls into the couch watching Clarke study. She’s onto her sixth textbook and fourth notebook for the day and has barely moved. If it hadn’t been for Octavia refilling her water or bringing her snacks she probably wouldn’t have eaten and then she’d be dealing with a cranky Clarke.

There’s a crease down the middle of Clarke’s forehead from concentrating too much for too long. Two pens are lost to the haphazard bun perched on top of her head and there’s a third tucked behind her ear. She’s tapping her fourth on a notebook page. There’s a slight squint to her eyes like they’re sore and she needs a break, but Octavia knows she won’t take one until she’s gone and given in for the night. Clarke is more likely to pass out right there than stop studying.

Octavia can’t find it in her to stop watching Clarke. She’s always thought her best friend was stunning but it had never really meant anything to her. Clarke was stunning the same way a sunset was. It was beautiful and mysterious and inexplicable, a quiet, vibrant, certainty. Now though, when she looks at Clarke and sees how beautiful she is all she can think is that she wants to know how soft Clarke’s rose petal lips are pressed to her own.

The curiosity and the desire is like an itch under her skin that she can’t scratch. 

She can’t chalk it up to a drunken impulse like she could last night, just like she can’t forget the feeling of waking up, aching and hungover, but with Clarke snuggling against her chest in such a way that she never wanted to let her go again. All she had wanted in that moment was for Clarke to be  _ hers _ and for her to be Clarke’s.

Sitting up she tucks the blanket around her waist and grabs a pillow to clutch to her chest as she leans forward. She rests her chin on the pillow and looks up at Clarke. Octavia feels like she’s seeing her friend for the first time as if a veil has been lifted, and there’s a joyous wondrous electricity that she’s never seen before that dances around Clarke.

“You need something?” Clarke raises an eyebrow as she looks away from her studying. Octavia’s been acting strange since last night, on edge, antsy, and hasn’t been able to put a finger on why because she can’t remember anything out of the ordinary happening. She reaches for her water and gulps half of it down, still fending off a the hangover from last night’s fun.

“Can I kiss you?”

Clarke coughs and spits water out, inhales and it goes up her nose. It all burns and she’s isn’t quite sure she even understood what Octavia asked correctly because she’s fairly certain Octavia just asked if she could kiss her. Clarke coughs and sputters and tries to remember what breathing normally feels like.

Octavia’s turned down the offer to kiss more than once in the past. Then again, the last time it came up was high school, and the only reason it ever came up was silly dares at parties, but Clarke had always been more than willing. Octavia is beautiful and funny and her best friend. It was Octavia that wasn’t into kissing or sex. At least that’s what Octavia had thought until she’d met Lincoln; Clarke had never pushed it.

Clarke had given up her teenage infatuation a long time ago and is quite content with her best friend that she trusts with everything and loves dearly. She sets down her water and moves her notebook and her textbook to the coffee table before turning to Octavia.

It’s the look on Octavia’s face that she knows Octavia is trying to hide that makes her want to give in right that second. This is huge though because it’s a line they’ve never crossed, never even toyed with crossing. They’ve shared beds and showers and secrets… everything but this.

“What prompted this?” Clarke asks, trying to keep her voice even, afraid that this isn’t the right response, or even the one she wants to give.

Octavia squirms trying to stay where she’s at when all she wants to do is plant herself in Clarke’s lap. It’s like her body is remembering all the ways intimacy can feel good and she’s on fire with it. Being close to Clarke only makes it blaze brighter, but she also knows it’s the only way to put that fire out. 

“Have you seen you?”

“Thirteen years, O!” Clarke jumps up from the couch her brain failing to process that out of nowhere her best friend has feelings for her, and she isn’t entirely certain they’re unwanted. Her head spins half with the hangover and half with uncertainty, “You’ve been looking at me for thirteen years and we’ve never done this before.”

“Are you saying no?”

“I don’t know, what are you saying?”

“I want you,” Octavia looks up at Clarke the words she needs just out of reach the ones she has falling flat on her tongue.

“Want me, like you just want to sleep with me? Or like…”

“Or like I want you to be my girlfriend and everything that entails.”

Clarke spins on the spot and sits down on top of her text books on the coffee table. “I thought…”

Octavia leans back against the couch. “Me too…. So that’s a no?”

“No?” Clarke isn’t sure what she wants, all she knows is that she needs to find a way to get them through this so she doesn’t lose her best friend.

##  _______________________________________

 

The next day Octavia acts like nothing strange at all passed between her and Clarke, except maybe they’re a bit more reserved with each other, giving each other a wider berth. It’s hard to tell though because some days are like this and Clarke is paying too much attention to every little thing that passes between them.

She’s in the shower by the time she gets up the nerve to give Octavia an answer because the answer is yes. It was yes the night before when she choked on her water, and when her brain wouldn’t process, even though she couldn’t say it then, the answer was yes. They coexist in the best of ways and there’s little that they don’t know about the other. 

Clarke leans her forehead against the tile of the bathtub wall and lets the hot water rush over her.

This is not how she ever expected things to go. If they don’t work out it could mean losing the one person she holds most dear, but if she doesn’t try there’s a chance she’ll lose Octavia anyway.

It’s not like Clarke doesn’t want Octavia, or a relationship. She’s just been so focused on school lately that she hasn’t had time to really think about one. She’s been on a handful of dates since she ended things with Niylah, but none that were particularly memorable.

The hot water runs down her front and side and she lets it lull her into a half dream state. Last night she should have said yes, they should have kissed. She can see a hundred ways it could have gone better that don’t end with the hurt and the awkward they shared last night.

It doesn’t matter how many times she turns it over in her head, she knows what her answer is, what it has to be. 

Clarke shuts off the water, having spent more time standing in the stream than actually washing and hurriedly towels off before securing the towel around her and gathering up her dirty clothes.

When she steps out of the bathroom, the apartment is empty. There’s a mug of coffee on the counter with a plate for a lid and a note saying there’s bread in the toaster ready to toast with a banana like there is every other morning she’s running late and Octavia has to leave for work.

There’s a sense of warmth in her chest as she stares at the gesture. It would have made sense if Octavia had skipped the routine this morning. There’s also a deep sense of disappointment in her heart that she has to wait for Octavia to come home from work tonight, because there’s no way she isn’t doing this in person.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke was an hour away from getting to go home for the day when her boss handed her a grant proposal that needed research, which meant she ended up staying at work an hour late getting the first section done. It’s well after sunset on her walk home and she ends up with her hands shoved deep in her pockets to keep warm instead of texting on her walk like she normally does.

Today feels like it’s taken a few lifetimes to get through.

She almost went to the precinct between class and work but there was no guarantee Octavia would be in the office as she and Lincoln were probably on patrol. Sometimes they would meet up for lunch but it didn’t always work out and Octavia hadn’t texted her yet that day so Clarke had headed to the art museum early and nursed a cup of coffee while she studied. The barista that she flirted with sometimes had been all smiles but Clarke just hunkered down over her textbook and refused to look up. Everything with Octavia has her confused.

Shoving her hands deeper into her coat she huddles against the cold as she walks. The sidewalks are quiet and the roads are busy and Clarke is lost enough in her own head that she nearly walks through three red lights on the way home.

The feeling starts at the bottom of the staircase. It’s heavy and acidic deep in her stomach. Her anxiety twists around her spine and it takes all her willpower to get herself up the stairs. She practically runs up them, taking them two at a time just so she doesn’t stop, so she can’t think about the fact that she’s getting closer to the decision she made that morning in the shower.

The thing she isn’t even sure if Octavia wants anymore.

She pauses outside their door, pacing back and forth, catching her breath so it isn’t obvious that she just forced herself up the stairs.

Octavia is sitting on the couch, headphones on, playing video games. Clarke shuts the door a little louder than she normally would and starts stripping off her winter layers.

“Hey,” Octavia says, stretching, her face scrunches and her voice wavers with the effort of the stretch. “I got Thai on the way home, I figured you’d be studying again tonight, and work sucked, so, easy night.”

“Hey, yeah.” The normalcy of it feels like a slap. Still she settles down on the couch next to Octavia and picks up one of the containers and a fork. “I’ve got to research a grant at work.”

“That sounds… not fun,” Octavia pauses her game and reaches down for the second container. “Lincoln and I had to chase a guy on foot for a mile after he tried to rob a store in front of us.”

“That also sounds not fun.”

It’s not that she hates the physicality of it or what she does, just the inanity trying to rob a store in front of two cops. “I have tomorrow off at least, you?” 

“Essay due at six tomorrow night.”

They swap containers. The conversation continues, nothing of consequence, just friends catching up on the day and taking a few minutes to chill while they shovel food into their face. Clarke cleans up and puts the leftovers in the fridge and Octavia goes back to her game.

Grabbing her bag, Clarke heads to her room knowing that she won’t be able to concentrate sitting next to Octavia.

She doesn’t even bother getting out her paints she just sits in front of the blank canvas on her easel and stares at it, even though she should be finishing her essay. She isn’t there yet, can’t bring herself to think about it yet. This is worse than if Octavia had been sad, if Octavia had tried to flirt with Clarke, it’s almost as if the conversation and the fear and the tears didn’t happen, as if they’ve forgotten the conversation like the hangovers they forget after they drink.

Except Clarke can’t think of anything else.

She had watched Octavia watching her, lips parted, hope on her breath. Impulsive as always Octavia had blurted out the one thing Clarke wasn’t prepared for. Long ago she’d thought that maybe one day they would but she’d chalked it up to teenage infatuation and moved on, and on, and on. It’s not that she doesn’t want to kiss Octavia.

It’s that she does and she’s afraid it will ruin their friendship.

It may have been impulsivity that pushed Octavia to ask, but she knows her best friend well enough to know that the thought would have eaten at her, would continue to eat at her.

Clarke stumbles out of her dark room and back into the living room. Octavia doesn’t look up from her game as Clarke blinks rapidly in the bright light. Their apartment is small and Clarke is in Octavia’s lap before her eyes have finished adjusting, one leg on either side of Octavia, the video game controller in her hand as she presses the button she knows will pause the game and tosses it aside.

Octavia’s makeup is smudged in a way that Clarke knows means she’s been crying for the past ten minutes since Clarke went to her room.

Clarke pushes back Octavia’s headphones.

“Yes,” Clarke breathes the word out. Her chest heaves and she’s acutely aware of how close Octavia is, how warm she is, how she hasn’t reached out to touch Clarke yet.

“Yes?” Octavia’s brow knits together in confusion.

“You can kiss me.”

“Are you..?” Octavia’s hands press to Clarke’s back, bringing her close even as she searches Clarke’s face for some small hesitation.

Clarke leans her forehead to Octavia’s, her hands cupping her face gently. Her breath catches in her chest and she wants to kiss her. It’s burning through her but she’s afraid she’s too late, she’s afraid Octavia is going to push her back and tell her no, tell her it’s too late, tell her that she isn’t interested. The last thing she wants to do is make Octavia feel uncomfortable.

She’d held Octavia before, crying and inconsolable at how she felt having kissed someone she wasn’t interested in. She couldn’t do that to her.

“Yes, if you still are?”

Octavia’s breath is hot on her lips and there’s barely any space between them left, but neither has made the move to close that last distance between them. It will change everything.

“I love you, you know that,” Octavia says her lips almost brushing Clarke’s.

Tangling her fingers in Octavia’s hair she breathes them closer, the feeling of it echoes through her, “I love you, too.”

They’ve said those words a thousand times, but it’s never meant this; it’s never been like  _ this _ .

Their breathing is ragged, and they’re burning up, consumed with the kiss even as it hasn’t happened yet. They’re trapped in the moment, needing, falling further, preparing for the leap that’s already happened the moment Clarke straddled Octavia, maybe it started the moment Octavia blurted out  _ can I kiss you? _

Octavia tilts her head unable to wait any longer. It starts soft, a press of lips, but their hearts are in their throats and there’s nothing left between them but the truth. There’s little they don’t know of each other, but this feels like a new world is bursting forth before them. Clarke parts her lips, kissing Octavia slowly, she swipes her tongue along the seam of her lips. There’s no going back so she pushes forward. She feels Octavia grin, and they’re pressing together, bodies reacting as hands start to wander. Everything they already know about each other giving them momentum as they crash through the line between friends and lovers.

Clarke doesn’t even try to hold back the moan in her throat as Octavia bites down on her bottom lip.

“Bed,” Clarke whispers between kisses.

Octavia nods rapidly as they stumble backwards up off the couch not stopping the kiss. Clarke’s calves hit the coffee table as Octavia presses up against her and they’re unbalanced, crashing backwards. Clarke’s back hits the coffee table and it shatters beneath their combined weight. Their foreheads smack together and they land in a heap on the floor, groaning and laughing.

“You okay?” Octavia rolls gently off to one side trying to catch her breath.

“I think so?” Clarke contemplates sitting up and just lays there instead. She reaches out and finds Octavia’s hand. “You?”

“Yeah, solid kiss.”

“Definitely. Got a little into it there.”

“We needed a new coffee table anyway.”

Clarke bursts out laughing and rolls onto her side and against Octavia, ignoring the splintered wood poking into her through her sweater. She feels Octavia laughing too. It’s intoxicating and wonderful and her heart bursts with joy.

Together they find their way to sitting and back to the edge of the couch, checking each other over for splinters and scrapes, exchanging soft kisses and testing the edges of their new relationship.

“Bed?” Clarke asks again. “Maybe this time we take it slow?”

Octavia entwines her fingers with Clarke’s and smiles shyly. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for being so patient I know a lot of you have been waiting for this particular part of the story for a long time!


	37. I Asked if I Could Kiss You part 2 | 5 years ago

Clarke lay back on the couch with her legs up over the armrest, she’s got a beer dangling from her fingertips, almost touching the ground. She’s tired and sore but there’s a lightness about her that means she can’t stop smiling. Her heart feels like it’s taken over her body and she’s nothing but floating and bliss. Part of that might be the three shots of whiskey and the beer she’s already downed.

Not the bliss though. That’s been wrapping around her since she and Octavia kissed, and then broke the table, and then fell asleep forehead to forehead, legs tangled together. It was as if they couldn’t get closer and then they did, and things they had done hundreds of times felt new.

There had been a few moments though, right after Octavia had left for work, where she had started to panic, worry and what ifs spinning around her but the desire to not sabotage herself prevailed. Standing in the middle of the living room she really looked around for the first time in days. They still hadn’t cleaned up the broken table, it had been late the night before, and it was still early yet, and there were countless clothes and shoes and other random things strewn about.

It took her most of the morning and three trips to the dumpster out back to clean up, and then she had finished up her essay.

Knowing Octavia wouldn’t be home until later she had texted Bellamy to come over and set up on the couch with a congratulatory beer and several shots of whiskey. She didn’t remember the last time their apartment looked this clean. Maybe that’s where the floating feeling came from. Clarke hasn’t found herself being this proactive or productive in a long time and there’s something calming about being able to walk across their tiny apartment without tripping six times.

Clarke cranes her neck and looks up at Bellamy. His eyes are half closed and he’s slouched into the corner of the couch, a bottle of beer is held precariously in his hand, balanced on the arm of his couch. A smile tugs at the corner of her mouth because it’s only taken a day for her life to settle into something wonderful that she never expected. Not that anyone but she and Octavia know right now.

Though, based on the way Octavia had been bouncy and bubbly this morning, there was a good chance that Lincoln knew just from the way she was acting.

This is it though, her life coming together and feeling like there’s something with a future happening. She doesn’t have to worry about whether or not her mother likes her partner; she doesn’t have to worry about whether or not she likes her partner’s family. Bellamy has been like a big brother as long as she has known him. At times he could be overprotective but most of the time he was just trying to protect her and Octavia from the world, sometimes from themselves. 

Clarke reaches up above her head and prods Bellamy in the side of the leg with her index finger. “Why do professors always assign so much work during dead week?” 

Bellamy cracks open an eye and looks down at Clarke. He’s an adjunct professor at the university she attends, but doesn’t teach any classes she’d ever take. “Because y’all are idiots and don’t know anything until the end of term.” His eyes crinkle with a laugh and he musses Clarke’s hair.

Clarke scowls and sticks her tongue out. “Maybe that’s on the teachers instead of the students.”

They settle into a comfortable friendly silence for a while, sipping on their beers lazily and checking their phones. It’s peaceful.

“So… are you going to tell me what happened to the coffee table?”

Clarke doesn’t answer right away. “O and I broke it,” she tiptoes around the reality not quite looking at Bellamy, instead choosing that moment to sit up and swing around so she’s tucked into the opposite corner of the couch. “It’s in pieces in the dumpster downstairs.”

“Doing what?” Bellamy asks as he knocks back the rest of his beer. His words barely hide the laughter behind them. “There’s no space to do anything in this apartment but sit.”

Clarke chews on her bottom lip because she was still waiting for Octavia to get home, they hadn’t really talked about how they were going to tell Bellamy, they were just going to be and that would be enough for them. They didn’t need explanations or excuses as to why now and not before. She stares at the spot where the table was, and she can still feel Octavia’s hands on her as they kissed, trailing along her hips and thighs, up to her waist and back down again.

She loses herself in the memory, sitting on the couch, knees brushing, picking splinters off their clothes when they weren’t distracted with the soft press of lips and the thrill that it brought.

Bellamy shifts, leaning onto the center cushion of the couch and snaps his fingers near Clarke’s face. It’s a bit uncoordinated and he ends up just flopping down across the couch, looking up at Clarke. He’s a bit past tipsy and into drunk already.

Clarke jumps slightly, and looks down at him, not really able to stop the smile on her lips, because she knows Octavia will be home soon and even her nerves are no match for the excitement and possibility that the prospect of their future holds.

“Where’d you go space cadet?” He slurs. “I wouldn’t think a broken table would… elicit that kind of grin.” He chooses his words carefully, gesticulating with his hand that’s still holding the beer bottle like he’s trying to wheedle the truth out of her in true big brother fashion.

“No, but kissing Octavia does.” The words slip out before she’s really thought them through, she’s too busy thinking about kissing Octavia to stop herself from talking about it.

Bellamy jumps to standing, stumbling a few steps and turning around. “What the fuck kind of joke is that?”

It’s like something snaps, or the flip of a switch. One minute he’s Bellamy and the next Clarke can feel the anger rolling off him. He doesn’t feel like Bellamy in that moment, gone is his soft goofy smile, and the warmth she knows, in its place is a harshness she never expected would be directed at her.

“Calm down, Bell,” Clarke stands moves to set her beer down on the TV table. “You know me, you already know I care about O, a fucking lot.”

“Exactly, so why would you do this to her?”

“Whoa, do what exactly?” Clarke holds up her hands and backs up a couple of steps incredibly uncomfortable with the accusatory tone Bellamy has taken on. 

“Make her gay!” He yells. “I saw how hard things were for you sometimes, and you have no right to put that on her.” He snatches up the bottle of whiskey Clarke had sat on the floor, uncorking it and taking a long pull straight from the bottle.

Clarke stops moving backwards, decidedly pissed at his choice of words. She takes a few steps forward, making up the for the ground that she gave up. “I didn’t make Octavia anything.” 

She doesn’t really take the time to weigh her options, ignoring the fact that Bellamy has more than half a foot on her, and quite a bit more muscle mass, instead she moves into his space and tilts her head up to get in his face. She knows she’s just the wrong side of tipsy but she’s too pissed off to care. “I didn’t make her anything, Bellamy.”

“Like hell,” Bellamy shoves her backward out of his face and she stumbles but catches herself before falling. “She’s never once mentioned she’s into girls before this.”

“Yeah, well she’s into me, and I don’t see why you have a problem with it!” Clarke wonders if there’s any point in trying to reason with him. More than getting him to chill out she doesn’t want Octavia to come home to this. She’ll take Bellamy’s wrath as long as Octavia doesn’t have to face the same kind of unmitigated anger from her brother that she did from her mother’s boyfriend. “You’ve known me for thirteen years, Bell, you know I wouldn’t hurt her, so what is this about?”

“My sister isn’t gay!” Bellamy bellows; Clarke flinches with the force of it but stands her ground.

Maybe it’s the alcohol in her veins but she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not yell about how she and Octavia were probably going to have sex until they crashed through the coffee table. Instead she glares at Bellamy.

“You know what, fuck you, get out.” Clarke takes a step toward Bellamy even though she can’t effectively get in his face with the height difference. She tries. “You’re not going to do this to her, and I don’t want you in my apartment any longer.”

Bellamy steps away from Clarke running his hand over his face and takes another long pull of the whiskey. She thinks for a moment he might leave but there’s a tenseness in his shoulders that has her on edge and wondering how long until Octavia gets home. She doesn’t know if she wants Octavia by her side, or if she’d rather Octavia never saw him like this.

“What part of get out didn’t you understand?”

He turns and steps back into Clarke’s space, shoving her hard. She isn’t expecting it and stumbles backward, tripping over her own feet. It’s the force of it coupled with the drinks she’s had that have her off balance. Her head hits the TV table and then she hits the ground, white hot pain cuts through her head and she claps her hand over her eye where the pain seems to be emanating from.

Clarke rolls onto her back and gulps down air and tears trying to process. The apartment is silent, for the moment at least, Bellamy is leaving her alone. She can hear his breathing, ragged and nearby, but she doesn’t open her eyes to see where he is or what he’s doing.

Blood trickles down her face and into her hair and she lets it. 

Her eye socket throbs and it feels like her face is broken or that her eye burst, though she can still move her eye around, so she knows it isn’t true, but there’s so much pain and blood and she knows sitting up will be a bad idea.

She feels Bellamy kneel down next to her. Her good eye snaps open and she does her best to glare at him.

“I-I didn’t mean,” Bellamy reaches out for Clarke’s hand to uncover her eye and see the damage.

“Don’t touch me!” Clarke hisses and lunges to her feet, knocking Bellamy backwards as she does. Her head spins and throbs and she ends up on her hands and knees trying not to retch.

“I’m drunk, I didn’t mean…” His words slur together and she doesn’t need to look to know his head is in his hands.

The edges of Clarke’s vision are dark.

She hears Bellamy sniffling.

The door opens and Octavia steps into the apartment with a bright cheery hello only to stop mid-sentence and drop silent.

Clarke looks down, realizing that she’s leaving a bloody handprint on the carpet and she’s dripping thick dark blood next to it.

“Bell?” Octavia asks softly as she walks around the couch. “Clarke!”

Her brother is in tears and her girlfriend is bleeding badly and this isn’t a situation she thought she’d find herself coming home to. Not ever. It isn’t, however, all that unfamiliar, just the players have changed.

Octavia feels her emotions slip aside as she goes back into cop mode, take care of the situation, then deal with what it means. She kneels next to Clarke and helps her sit up slowly and lean back against the couch. “What happened?” Her voice is gentle and firm and it feels a thousand miles away because her hands should be shaking and she should be crying but instead she’s numb to the sight before her.

Though she knows it’s going to haunt her.

Clarke’s head lolls back onto the couch cushion and her focus is hazy, even her grip on Octavia’s arm is weak.

“I hit my head.” Clarke says slowly.

“I can see that,” Octavia doesn’t want to leave Clarke but she needs the first aid kit. “Bellamy, go get the first aid kit out of the bathroom. It’s under the sink on the right.”

She doesn’t look to see if he moves, just keeps her hands on Clarke as if that’ll make this okay. 

“How though, Clarke?” 

Clarke could navigate the floor of her room, constantly littered with clothes and books and paint supplies while nearly black out drunk and not trip. That’s what worries Octavia the most and the answer her brain is trying not to come to is something she can’t stomach. All the signs are there.

She picks up Clarke’s head and helps her sit more upright. “Follow my finger with your eyes, okay?” Octavia moves her hand back and forth slowly, watching Clarke following slowly but steadily. Fishing her phone out of her pocket she flicks on the flashlight and shines it in Clarke’s eyes. Clarke grimaces and tries to turn her head but Octavia holds her still. “I need you to try to keep your eyes open, I’m going to do that again.”

“‘Kay,” Clarke mumbles.

Clarke stays still, her pupils dilate evenly, then return to their normal size in unison, at the least it’s unlikely Clarke is concussed.

“I think we should probably take you to Urgent Care and get this stitched up.”

Clarke shakes her head no, just the tiniest of movement. Octavia feels the numbness wavering, and she knows she’s going to lose the clarity that she has if Clarke gets any worse.

Bellamy kneels down next to Octavia and holds up the first aid kit. “Sorry.” The word is mushy, like the edges have been filed off by the alcohol on his breath. 

Octavia leans back away from him and tries not to let the fear in her gut creep up and wrap it’s suffocating grasp around her heart. She doesn’t miss the way Clarke flinches.

“Go get some water,” Octavia orders him. “And drink it.”

“I’m sorry. Clarke, I-”

“Go get some fucking water,” Clarke spits the words out and keeps her gaze downcast, unable to meet Octavia’s eyes as the anger spills from her. 

Octavia’s hands shake as she unzips the first aid kit and opens up fresh gauze, intending to see if the wound was deep enough to need stitches or if they would just close it with butterfly strips. She doesn’t want to ask, but she can’t stop the words, because it’s what she would have to ask if Clarke was someone she was helping on the job. “Did he hit you?” Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

Clarke rolls her eyes to look at Octavia and then looks away again, tears cut through the semi dried blood. Her words are so quiet that Octavia can barely make them out, “Shoved me, hit my head on the TV thingamawhatzit,” she waves her hand vaguely at the TV stand. “He knows about us.”

There’s something entirely broken about those last four words, as if Clarke expects Octavia to take his side, as if the last twenty four hours of her life haven’t been the best up until this moment, because in this moment her stomach bottoms out. Bellamy has done the one thing he used to protect her from.

Octavia grabs Clarke’s chin and turns her head, there are thousand things she wants to say, but all she does is kiss her hard before she pulls away. The numbness is gone and in its place is the rage she’s always been afraid of, the only thing keeping her grounded is the heart stopping memory of Clarke’s lips on hers.

She snatches the water glass from Bellamy’s hands as he moves back toward the couch. “Leave.”

“Octavia…” he pleads. “It was an accident. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You did it though.”

“O, I promise. I promise. I’m gonna be better. I’m gonna make this right. I won’t ever-” he reaches for her like he’s going to hold onto her arms and plead until she relents. She’s seen this play out a hundred times and it never ends well. It always ends with the wrong person apologizing and the wrong person feeling guilty and someone getting away with messing up.

“You nearly knocked my girlfriend unconscious!”

Bellamy flinches but he keeps his mouth shut.

“In no way is this okay. I’m a cop. Do you realize that I have to deal with this everyday? That I spend my life trying to protect people from what we had to grow up in? And that you have the gaul to-” Octavia cuts herself off because Bellamy is crying, drunk crying, and nothing she’s saying is making it into his head. He’s whispering an apology over and over like it means anything in that moment. “Just get your drunk ass home and text me when you’re there. And take a taxi for fucks sake. Because I swear if you make one more mistake right now...”

Clarke leans against the couch and looks up at Bellamy. He’s torn between going and apologizing again, his eyes vaguely glazed and his movements slow. 

“Don’t turn into him,” Clarke knows she doesn’t need to specify who, they all know. She leans her head back wondering how things got so fucked up. Maybe it’s her fault, if she hadn’t have been drinking, or she had waited for Octavia to get home maybe things would have gone down differently. She presses the palm of her hand more firmly against her eyebrow and hisses at the sharp pain. “But just  _ go _ .”

If she had more energy she’d make him leave herself.

Bellamy’s shoulders sag and he grabs his keys and jacket as he crosses the room. The door slams behind him and Octavia rushes to lock the door.

Where does she go from here? How does she keep going forward when the person she trusted to be her safety has blown a hole in her heart? He’s her brother and he promised he would always protect her. One disaster at a time. She turns away from the door and crosses back across the small room to Clarke.

Octavia lowers herself to the ground, stripping away any pretense and stradling Clarke because it’s easier to get closer this way and right now she needs to be close to her girlfriend. Her heart is a giant ache in her chest and she can’t process what it means right now. All she knows is that Clarke’s eyebrow is still oozing blood. It’s the one concrete thing she can focus on. 

Her hands flutter around Clarke’s face, suddenly unable to follow through with her training now that it’s her girlfriend, her best friend, that’s been hurt. She knows what she needs to do she just feels like half a breath from breaking. “What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Clarke whispers and leans heavily into Octavia’s hand. She kisses her palm.

Octavia shakes her head and sniffles back tears. All she wants to do is kiss Clarke but there is blood everywhere. “Let me take you to the hospital.”

Clarke shakes her head slowly. “No way I can get on your motorcycle right now.”

“I’ll call Lincoln.”

“He’ll go after Bell, and then someone at the hospital will end up telling my mom and it’ll just be a mess.” Clarke groans as she sits up. “I just want to be clean and to take a few painkillers and curl up with you.” She ends her demands with a gentle kiss. “I need to know you’re still here, with me… and not…”

Octavia breaks into the kiss, hands shaking, tears spilling down her cheeks. She cups Clarke’s face in her hands, disregarding the sticky warmth underneath her fingertips.  “I’m never going to leave you,” she kiss Clarke again, harder, until both of them of them come up gasping for air.

Octavia leans her forehead against Clarke’s and they stay like that for a few moments breathing each other in and reminding the other that they’re there. Slow breaths in and out, up and down foreheads and noses pressed close, chests moving together, cradling each other in an embrace.

“Compromise,” Clarke proposes as she kisses Octavia’s nose to move her back just enough so they can look at each other. “I’ll text a photo of this mess to my mom and asks if she thinks I should get stitches, say I tripped in my room, she’s always on me to clean up the floor. She’ll get to say I told you so, and you’ll feel better about us staying home if I don’t need someone shoving a needle through my face.”

Octavia gives her a small smile. “I can live with that.”

“Let’s get the floor clean,” Clarke nudges at Octavia. “And then me, and then bandages, and bed.”

“And food?” Octavia asks with a hint of concern.

Clarke wraps her clean hand around Octavia’s collar and pulls her in for another kiss, “You’re good to me. Now up before I lose my energy and resolve to help.”

“No,” Octavia pushes Clarke gently back against the couch. “You stay here and try not to bleed on anything else, I’ll clean, and make something, and then we’ll shower.”

Clarke rolls her head to the clean side, and watches Octavia as she stands. Her heart is heavy because she knows there’s a lot that they still have to deal with, a lot that won’t go away so easily. There’s a part of her though that’s light, like she’s still flying high, the happiness she feels when she thinks that Octavia chose her. It’s the knowledge that they aren’t alone in this, they have each other, and it feels like enough.

##  _______________________________________

 

Octavia wakes in the middle of the night with her nose pressed to the back of Clarke’s head, one leg flung over her hips. Her right arm is dead asleep, trapped underneath them both, and she can feel a crick in her back. Even with the discomfort she doesn’t want to move and disturb her girlfriend.

The thought that Clarke is her girlfriend brings a fluttering smile to her lips and she presses a kiss to mussed sleep warmed hair. If she tried she couldn’t count the number of times she had woken up like this but the pull between them was new. It was in the way that Octavia didn’t necessarily want to go back to sleep quite yet. 

The more she wakes up the more what happened the night before comes back to her.

It starts with a curl of her fingers around Clarke’s shirt, her palm pressed to the bare skin of Clarke’s stomach.Then the ache and pain of what transpired coils around her heart once more. Bellamy’s betrayal, him turning, if only for a night into the kind of person she had come to hate.

The tears come then.

All the tears she had held back while Clarke had put on a brave face, even as she was still covered in blood. The tears she held back while she and Clarke tried to talk Abby out of coming over to have a look at Clarke’s face herself. Neither one of them could have handled that, not right in that moment, it would have been impossible to hide that they were together, and that was the last thing either of them wanted. They didn’t want to lie about what they were to each other. So Octavia had patched up her girlfriend and fed them both peanut butter toast with pickles and she hadn’t cried.

It was dark now though and all the thoughts she had shoved down come bubbling to the surface. At the top of her mind is the question, how does she fix things with Bellamy, because she can’t imagine her life without her brother in it. There isn’t a world where he isn’t around.

Octavia cries as silently as she can trying not to hold too tightly to Clarke lest she wake her up.

Clarke shifts and turns over, not quite waking up but simply stirring in her sleep to cuddle into Octavia. She nestles her face to Octavia’s chest like she’s a safe haven in the sea of dreaming. It’s familiar and new all at once.

Carefully, Octavia brushes her fingertips across the bruise surrounding Clarke’s eye, around the split in her eyebrow. Even in the dark she can see the purple of the bruise against Clarke’s pale skin, feel the heat of it underneath her fingertips. She keeps her touch light, not wanting to wake her or cause pain. There’s been enough of that to last them the month.

##  _______________________________________

 

They don’t sleep much the next few nights, instead spending their time making certain that they’re cuddling and exchanging kisses while half asleep. Octavia runs out the door late more than once, breakfast in hand, uniform mussed, feeling ecstatic, but also eyes red rimmed from crying.

Aside from work they haven’t left the safety of their apartment. It wasn’t a conscious choice to keep themselves away from the world as much as it was a desire to just be together, touching, kissing- it was like being a teenager again.

Which is why Clarke isn’t the least bit surprised when she walks into the apartment only to have her back slammed against the door as it shuts. Octavia’s hands are on her hips and her lips are on her neck and Clarke’s forgotten what she was going to do when she got home that wasn’t kiss her girlfriend. There had been something, but it’s already long gone from her mind. 

Not that she’s complaining but she hadn’t quite expected to be quite so excited about kissing… kissing that is definitely building towards more, a more that if it doesn’t happen soon is going to make Clarke combust. Unless Octavia says that won’t happen, then she’ll deal, but they’re also going to have a serious discussion at some point.

That point is not right now.

Clarke moans as Octavia bites her bottom lip, teeth digging in just the right side of pain. She walks them into the apartment, shedding her coat, toeing off her shoes as they go. Clarke only breaks the kiss to pull off her sweater. Before it hits the ground Octavia pushes her onto the couch and they’re both horizontal.

Octavia is merciless in the way she kisses. They’re long past Clarke is air and Octavia is drowning. When Octavia’s hand knots in Clarke’s hair her eyes roll back and she’s powerless to do anything. Clarke tilts her head back giving Octavia the access to her neck she demands not caring in that moment if it means more bruises she’ll have to cover– these will be appreciated and well earned. 

Using her grip in Clarke’s hair, Octavia turns her head and they’re kissing again, they’re hips roll together Octavia’s thigh slipping between Clarke’s. Hands underneath Octavia’s shirt Clarke drags her nails down Octavia’s back. They aren’t sure who moans louder.

Slipping her hand under Clarke’s shirt, Octavia’s hand trail’s up her side, thumb brushing just under the edge of her bra. Clarke arches into the touch, her body reacting before she can stop it because every nerve in her body is screaming for more.

“O,” Clarke pants her words only coming out between kisses. “Babe. I gotta stop.”

Octavia pulls back confusion marring her features.

Clarke presses her hand flat against Octavia’s stomach and digs her fingertips in. “If we keep on like this I won’t want to stop. I mean, I  _ don’t _ want to stop, but we need to. We haven’t… and I know you don’t…”

Octavia chews on her bottom lip as she looks down the length of Clarke’s body and sits up, still straddling Clarke. There’s an ache between her legs that she wants to explore, her body feels like it’s on fire in the best of ways and she doesn’t know how to turn it off. Well, she knows, but she doesn’t know how to control it around Clarke. It’s less confusing when this feeling isn’t tied to a person specifically and she can take care of the ache on her own time, or not. 

This however, is like her mind has been co-opted and she’s not sure she’s all that bothered by the desire to give in.

“I do though…” Octavia lets the implication hang. “With you.”

“Oh,” Clarke squeezes her hands around Octavia’s thighs but doesn’t move unsure what this means in the moment.

“Yeah.” Octavia dips her head and gives an experimental roll of her hips.

“O…” Clarke says in warning as she tightens her grip. Octavia flashes her a mischievous grin, but moves off Clarke’s lap and lays down on her side so they’re face to face.

“So we wait, take it slow.” Octavia nods decisively.

“Yeah,” Clarke breathes out. It’s the right answer but she feels achy and unfulfilled, even as she settles into her girlfriend’s arms. She offers up a smile she doesn’t quite feel and tries to hide the wince of pain as her skin pulls at the split in her eyebrow. Navigating their boundaries is going to take time, and before they can do that they need to know that what happened with Bellamy won't break them. “I love you, you know.” Her voice cracks.

Octavia kisses Clarke softly and settles back, “I know.” When she talks it’s barely more than a whisper. They don’t have to explain what the shift is, why one moment they can be achingly close to having sex, and the next they’re both fighting back tears. The bruise on Clarke’s face is still multicolored and obvious even if the swelling has gone down. Octavia traces the edge of Clarke’s face, focusing on the feeling of the soft skin there.

She feels like she’s going to lose her careful control. She doesn’t want to put this on Clarke, knowing how hard she is working to be okay and how easily she can get knocked off course. “We’re going to be okay.”

Clarke’s fingers dig into Octavia’s back as she pulls her closer, hiding her face in the crook of Octavia’s neck. She doesn’t cry. 

The stability they’re walking on is a thin thread pulled taught between them and every mention of what happens plucks at it, loosening the fibers, weakening it and their resolve to stay upright. Each promise tries to buoy them up but only serves to add weight to the thread. They’re trying too hard to be okay for each other instead of allowing themselves to feel.

They keep kissing instead of talking, for a while it makes them forget, but then they stop and they find themselves clinging to each other.

It starts slowly. Octavia presses her face to Clarke’s hair and breathes in the scent of lavender she’s grown to associate with home. Clarke melts into Octavia and the arms that have been her safe haven since the day they first wrapped around her. Home and safety crack against the walls they’ve tried to erect until tears drip from both their eyes. One choked sob leads to another, and they cling to each other desperately.

Octavia tightens her arms around Clarke afraid to even lessen her hold. The joy and sadness she has felt this past week are both too profound to comprehend at once especially as they exist simultaneously. Clarke is solid and safe and real in her arms though, her heartbeat strong and even despite the tears. Scooching down in the couch she makes it so they’re nose to nose, breath mingling as they finally let go of the feelings they’ve been holding onto.

It was one of those moments that should have been profound and beautiful, but in reality it was just a lot of pain and tears and snot.

Clarke brushes tears from Octavia’s face as they both sniffle and try to contain the flood. “We’ll get through this if we stick together.”

Octavia nods and darts forward, capturing Clarke in a kiss. “Together,” she agrees against soft lips.

##  _______________________________________

 

It’s a week later on the Saturday afternoon just before Christmas when Clarke and Octavia walk into the sandwich shop on the corner near the precinct. The shop is as close as they can get to neutral territory and they know the staff, so it feels safe. They don’t let go of each other’s hand as they make their way into the densely crowded shop, somehow made brighter and busier by tinsel and baubles and all manner of shiny holiday decorations, and put in their usual order. Just as they’re about to press into a corner near the barstools where people wait a table in the back clears.

Octavia helps bus the table while Clarke claims it as theirs.

They sit next to each other, leaving the seat closest to the door open for Bellamy. Both girls are restless, holding hands beneath the table, messing with each other’s rings, tangling and untangling their fingers, moving their clasped hands to the top of the table. They don’t talk much though.

Clarke is still covering the bruise up with makeup even though there isn’t much she can do to hide the split in her eyebrow still head together with butterfly strips. Octavia can only make out the edges of the still slightly swollen skin because she’s spent more hours than she’ll admit to not sleeping and watching Clarke sleep recently. Even before this past week it was rare for Clarke to sleep soundly so Octavia can’t help but feel relieved whenever she manages to pass out.

It seems more so now and she doesn’t know if it’s more the trauma thing or the girlfriend thing; she’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter.

Clarke offers her a soft smile and it’s like the sun is shining as it warms Octavia’s heart. She grins and laughs and drops her head before kissing Clarke’s hand. Clarke leans in and kisses her gently.

“Definitely not going to get tired of being able to do that,” Clarke whispers, she can’t help but feel like she’s flying high when Octavia looks at her and smiles or when she blushes ever so slightly and Clarke knows she’s thinking about  _ them _ and their relationship.

“Me either,” Octavia says.

“We’re gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

Clarke takes a deep breath and scoots her chair closer to Octavia. She’s infinitely glad that the negative reaction they faced from Bellamy didn’t shatter their chance. If anything it’s made them more resolute and more sure of their decision. This wasn’t something that was a moment of weakness or infatuation, it may have been born of impulse but it’s too many years in the making to number.

In some ways she understands the fear Bellamy feels, there were people in high school who were cruel to Clarke for being out and proud about being bisexual, but they’re all so far past highschool that the fears are unfounded. She’s still a long way from forgiving him, but that kind of anger has never been how he’s acted with them before. For Octavia’s sake she’s willing to work to forgive him.

It doesn’t mean that the thought of seeing him today doesn’t turn her stomach in knots.

“I don’t think there’s a right decision in this.” Octavia threads her fingers through Clarke’s once more and squeezes. 

“He’s your brother,” Clarke provides. She doesn’t say anything about the pit in her stomach because she feels like there’s a chasm between herself and the person she considered family that she’s afraid will never be filled.

“He protected me growing up. I don’t know how to reconcile that part of him with what happened.” Octavia looks away as the front door opens, but it’s not him, just a mother and her young son.

“I don’t know how either.”

“I can’t lose him,” Octavia wants to put her head down, breathe through the tears that are threatening to fall but she can’t. If she tries she knows the tears will just come. “But I don’t know how to forgive him for hurting you.”

Clarke chews on her bottom lip and looks away not knowing how to say that she doesn’t know if she ever will be able to forgive him. Instead, when she looks up she pulls Octavia to her and kisses her. It’s easier when they’re touching and kissing, it’s easier than trying to figure things out that might already be decided for them. It’s easier than risking hurting each other already.

Someone clears their throat and they break apart, looking down, tucking hair behind ears, and feeling flushed.

“Just me with your drinks,” the barista chuckles as he sets down their coffees. “Don’t let me interrupt too much. Happy holidays.”

Octavia glances up and catches a smirk and a wink as he hurries back behind the counter. “Kissing you just makes the world go away,” she says with a heavy contented sigh.

Before Clarke can answer the front door to the bakery opens with a jingle and Bellamy walks in.

He’s dressed down in jeans and a sweatshirt, hands shoved in pockets, shoulders hunched, only glancing up briefly to locate Octavia and Clarke. It only takes him a few seconds to weave through the tables and take a seat but it feels like a small eternity. 

Bellamy leans onto the table, muttering a small  _ hey _ as he does. He doesn’t look up at first just stares down at the table between his forearms looking lost and confused. His eyes are rimmed red.

“Are we really going to keep up this fight the week before Christmas?” He asks.

Clarke and Octavia exchange a glance. They haven’t really talked much about what they’re going to do about the holidays. Christmas morning will be spent with Abby, but beyond that, like every other day this week they just want to stay home together and alone.

“That depends on you,” Clarke says evenly.

Bellamy looks Clarke over like he’s trying to figure something out, but he doesn’t focus on her for long, just a few furtive glances and then he focuses on Octavia who meets his gaze with an icy stare. Silence stretches between the three of them to a painful point.

“Are you going to tell me what I did?”

Clarke snorts derisively before she can stop herself and Octavia reaches under the table to squeeze her hand.

“You don’t remember at all, do you?” Octavia asks evenly.

Bellamy sighs heavily and scoots his seat closer to the table as he sits up. “I remember hanging out with Clarke and drinking… a lot. Celebrating being done with the term. I remember kinda being upset about something, and then you got home and told me to leave.” He runs a hand through his hair and fidgets, first leaning against the table then leaning back and crossing his arms, then uncrossing his arms.

Clarke and Octavia look at each other still not sure if they believe him that he’s just conveniently forgotten shoving Clarke down, and being violently angry because of them being together. Octavia shrugs slightly, it’s not like she hasn’t seen alcohol induced memory loss before. Clarke squeezes Octavia’s hand, sometimes it’s easier to show than tell.

Octavia puts their entwined hands on the table. “Clarke told you that we started dating.” There’s no point in drawing this out, if he wants to get angry again she wants it over with. Clarke still won’t tell her what he said the first time around.

Bellamy stares at their hands like he’s trying to sort out a puzzle, his brow furrows and he purses his lips. He doesn’t say anything.

Neither of the girls dare to move, not even to look at each other. Clarke bumps her knee into Octavia’s, focusing on the warm press of it through her jeans.

“I thought you were straight?” Bellamy looks to Octavia, almost refusing to look to Clarke.

Octavia can feel Clarke practically vibrating next to her with unspent energy as if she wants to scream at him for what he’s said. She wants to herself. There’s a part of her that’s never really felt much of anything, not really feeling attracted to many people at all she’s never really considered gender as much of a determining factor. “Bisexaul actually, when I’m actually bothered.”

It’s easier to respond to that part than the fact that he’s ignoring their relationship.

“Why would you chose this?” He asks, scooting closer to Octavia. He shifts like he’s going to reach out for her but his eyes flick to her hand still defiantly in Clarke’s and he stops.

“Why are you choosing to be an asshole about this?” Clarke mutters.

He opens his mouth and shuts it again, looking around, acutely aware of the fact that they’re in public.

Octavia reaches out for her brother and rests her hand on his knee, “Listen, I get that you just want to protect me, but this is my life, and I’m in love with my best friend, so maybe actually be on my side.” She narrows her eyes and and removes her hand before she lets herself dig her nails into his leg. “Since, as you’re implying, people are apt to be assholes about the fact that we’re both female.”

Clarke reaches out for her coffee cup and takes a sip trying not to look as smug as she feels in that moment. She hides behind the cup, watching the Blake siblings stare it out.

“You two have just always been like sisters.” He says with a hint of sadness. “I’m not going to lie and say this isn’t strange.”

“Well, the way I feel about your sister is definitely not sisterly. Sisters really shouldn’t be doing the things I plan to do to her.” Clarke winks at Octavia who chokes back a laugh.

“I really didn’t need to know that,” Bellamy holds up his hand and shakes his head. 

Octavia scoots her chair back a little and picks up her coffee cup. “You have no problem with Harper and Monroe, and you never said anything when I’d say things like that about Lincoln. So,  you need to get over your hang up whatever it is.”

She stands up and tugs Clarke with her. They move together, easily without communicating, knowing.

“When you’re ready to apologize you can call, until then, just don’t.” Octavia looks down at her brother hoping that the sibling bond will outweigh the idiocy bouncing around in his head. There’s nothing more to say right now and she wants to leave before this escalates into a fight, verbal or otherwise. She knows they both have it in them no matter how hard they try to ignore it.

Bellamy turns in his chair reaching out for Octavia but dropping his hand before he touches her. “You didn’t tell me why you wanted me to leave.”

Clarke leans into Bellamy as she passes by him, her voice is low and hard, “Take a good look at my face, Bell, since you’ve been refusing to look at me this entire time, and figure it out for yourself.” She stays there for a moment until his eyes alight on the cut above her eye and the barely concealed bruise still surrounding her eye. Just as he’s about to say something else she turns and leaves, pulling Octavia by the hand as they exit the shop.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke tugs the blanket off the back of the couch and spreads it over her and Octavia. They’re laying on the couch, Octavia nestled between Clarke’s legs, head resting on her chest, arms wrapped around her. After meeting with Bellamy they had come straight home, not really feeling like running the remainder of their errands.

Changing into sweatpants they had curled up together on the couch, Clarke had put on one of Octavia’s favorite movies, but neither of them are really watching it. There’s a heaviness around them, like a cold harsh reality trying to encroach on their bubble of serenity. Clarke tucks the blanket around them tighter.

This is the part of their relationship that’s supposed to be light and beautiful and feel like they’re riding on cloud nine, but this feels a lot like they’re running straight into the part that involves compromise and hard work, not that those things can’t be rewarding and worthwhile, but part of Clarke just wanted to be happy, plain and simple, for a while. 

“I wish there was a way we could forget about this,” Octavia says softly as her thumbs brush against Clarke’s back. Clarke can just feel Octavia’s breath skittering against her chest. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Clarke presses a kiss to the top of Octavia’s head, “You aren’t going to lose me. I’ve stuck around through tougher times.” There won’t be any forgetting about this, but maybe at least, they might be able to move on. She’ll tolerate Bellamy if that’s what it takes to bring back a smile to Octavia’s face again. She’s rarely ever seen her this morose.

Octavia shifts, lifting her head up so she can look at Clarke. She reaches out a hand, fingers hesitant as she touches the mottled edges of the healing bruise. “We can’t fix this,” she whispers. There are tears stinging the corners of her eyes and it feels a lot like this is her fault somehow. If she hadn’t have been late, if she’d called in sick that day like Clarke had asked, even though Clarke needed to focus on schoolwork, if she hadn’t have said it would be fine for Bellamy to come over. “He hurt you.”

Clarke wraps her arms more securely around Octavia, “I’ll heal, this isn’t changing how I feel about being with you.”

“No?” Octavia asks, there’s a hint of hope in her voice.

Clarke shakes her head and bites back a grin. Her hands creep up Octavia’s back and press them firmly together. She feels Octavia’s breath catch as her head dips down. “I want you to be happy and I know your brother is important to you. He just needs to get his head out of his ass.”

“He needs to apologize to you… but I don’t know if that’s enough.”

“We’ll see, okay?” Clarke tips her chin and kisses Octavia on the end of the nose. “I want this behind us too. I just want us to be happy.”

Octavia lowers her head; the kiss is gentle, shy almost, she smiles into it. She could do this forever, soft slow kisses that just lead to more. Tucked underneath the blanket with Clarke feels like the safest place in the world. She nudges Clarke and falls to her side. As they rearrange their legs tangle, arms thrown across waists so fingers can trail along spines, sharing a pillow so they’re nose to nose.

Clarke brushes her nose across Octavia’s as they resume kissing. She feels a bit like a teenager again, curled up under a blanket, hiding out from the world. She runs her hand up along Octavia’s side until she tangle her fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck. 

It feels like a small bit of paradise, the world around them melting away into nothing as they’re enveloped by warmth and each other’s arms. For a few moments it’s just the two of them, lips pressing together, parting, tongues slowly joining in the exchange. Each kiss feels a bit like  _ I love you _ and maybe they are, a hundred little promises that they’re in this together, a thousand touches that try to close what’s left of the distance between them.

A fire builds between them, consuming them so slowly they don’t feel it until it’s too late. Clarke presses her hips to Octavia’s, her thigh sliding higher until she feels Octavia grind down on it with a small moan. They break apart then, foreheads pressed together, breath coming in panting gasps as they try not to crash from one emotion to the next.

Clarke hisses in pain as Octavia leans into the cut on her forehead. Octavia pulls back and presses a light kiss to the split as she murmurs an apology.

They settle in, sharing a pillow watching each other, letting their breathing come back into a normal range. A knock on the front door makes them both jump. The knock is followed by another, patterned and recognizable. 

“Harpoe,” Octavia says, chewing on her bottom lip.

Clarke tightens her arm around Octavia’s waist, “Are we telling everyone else?”

“Do you want to?” Octavia whispers quickly.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.”

There’s a key in the lock and the door opens, leaving them no time to second guess their decision. 

“I know you two are home!” Monroe calls.

Clarke giggles and tucks herself into Octavia, mouth pressed to collarbone. Unlike with wondering how Bellamy would react Clarke has a pretty good idea how their very into girls, and each other friends are going to react.

The front door shuts.

Octavia nudges Clarke’s cheek with her nose and they’re kissing again. She couldn’t explain why she starts kissing Clarke again other than the thrill kissing sends through her body is heady and she’s already riding high.

“Uh, Monroe?” Harper’s voice is a few steps behind the couch.

Octavia’s smiling too much to kiss Clarke properly but Clarke is smiling too big to kiss her back. 

“So that’s why you aren’t answering the group text.” Monroe’s voice comes from directly above them.

Octavia slides her hand up to cup Clarke’s cheek, not quite breaking the kiss yet. 

“Do you think they’re going to come up for air?”

“Do you blame them?”

Clarke pulls back and nudges at Octavia to do the same. As much as she’s lost in the heady newness of kissing Octavia and the feelings that are flooding every fiber of her being she can’t fully ignore their friends, who are most definitely watching them make out. 

“Hey guys,” Clarke says as she twists to look up at Harper and Monroe who are looking down at them, leaning against the back of the couch. She tries to exude as much nonchalance as she doesn’t feel. “What’s the word in the group chat?”

Octavia sits up, her hair is mussed and her lips a red and swollen from kissing. She stretches, unashamed. “It better not be us.”

“Not yet, but say the word…” Harper grins.

“Soon. I want to talk to Niylah first.” Clarke says.

“Sorry we ruined the surprise.” Monroe hops up on the back of the couch and perches for a moment before she slides down and lands with her back on the cushions. She pops the gum she’s chewing. “So how long have you two been sucking face?”

Clarke sits up and pulls Octavia into her lap. She runs her hands around Octavia’s core, hands sliding up under her shirt and wandering before Clarke realizes what she’s doing and moves her hands to a more neutral place, on top of fabric.

“I asked Clarke out last week? Week before last?” Octavia says as if it’s no big deal.

“Technically you asked if you could kiss me,” Clarke counters.

Octavia rolls her eyes, “Which I then clarified.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Were we this gross?” Harper looks appalled as she turns to Monroe. “I don’t think we were.”

“You’re right,” Clarke says. “You were much worse.”

Laughter erupts and suddenly there are four girls piled onto the couch, limbs tangled and poking in weird directions. They settle slowly, one giggling setting off the rest without fail each time they quiet down. This is how it should be. Laughter and friends and life getting on like everything is normal.

“Hey Clarke,” Harper says softly once they’ve relaxed into each other. “What happened to your eye?”

The next round of laughter that was starting to bubble dies.

“I- I fell, that’s all.” Clarke shrugs and slumps further down into the couch as if that would hide the bruise and the still healing split in her eyebrow.

Octavia twists and leans up and kisses Clarke’s cheek. 

Neither Harper nor Monroe look like they believe her. 

“That’s one hell of a fall,” Monroe nudges Clarke but Clarke doesn’t turn to face her.

It’s as if in that one moment all the pain and uncertainty wrapped up in what Bellamy did hits her. She wants to disappear into the couch away from the stares of her friends the ones that let her know she isn’t fooling anyone with the flimsy half-lie. Before she starts to cry she looks away.

Clarke feels it then, a hand on her forearm, another on her calf, Octavia shimmying back to press up against her. It would be so easy then to give into the comfort and cry, but that wouldn’t be moving on. She closes her eyes for a moment and shakes her head. “Yeah, it was.”

Harper and Monroe squeeze their hands in unison and let go. 

“So are you two going to come out tonight or not?” Harper asks. “That’s why we came over. Everyone was thinking of going to The Trading Post. Niylah said she’s at work, so she’ll be there obviously.”

Octavia turns, wrapping her arms around Clarke, she nuzzles their noses together. “What do you say we test drive this in public instead of holing up in here?”

“I dunno,” Clarke grins. “I can think of an awful lot of fun we could get up to here…”

“Ugh,” Harper shoves Clarke’s shoulder. “Come on, just come out. First round’s on me, you know, to celebrate.”

“Okay,” Clarke says brightly as she pecks Octavia on the lips and jumps up from the couch as quickly as she can without knocking Octavia to the floor. They have friends, and maybe things are messy, but no matter what there are going to be people in their lives that love and support them just the way they are, because that’s what friends do, that’s what family does. “One stipulation though,” Clarke calls over her shoulder. “We get to tell Niylah and Lincoln,  _ then _ you can announce it to the world.”

Monroe shoots Clarke a scandalized look, her hand shooting up to her chest, fingertips pressed there lightly, “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

##  *_______________________________________

 

Octavia told Lincoln they were coming out with their relationship tongiht and he pulled her into a bear hug, picking her up, spinning her around as she squealed gleefully and whispered to her that he was glad she found love again. They held onto each other an odd mixture of melancholy and happiness. In beginnings there’s always a little bit of something ending.

Clarke doesn’t miss the pause before Niylah’s eyes light up, the small hesitation, but the smile and joy are real enough as if the pause had little at all to do with Clarke and Octavia. She pours them a celebratory shot of Clarke’s favorite bourbon and remarks about the spark that’s back in Clarke’s eyes again. 

As Clarke and Octavia lean into each other afterward the reality of it all starts to truly sink in. They’ve made this into something, told their friends that this is the direction they are moving in that it’s something real and true and lasting that they’re betting their friendship on.

Thirteen years of friendship.

Neither one says anything but it’s there in the tremble that passes between them as they kiss.

Harper hops up on the stool next to them, “What are we drinking tonight, ladies? Because we have got to celebrate this.”

Niylah pours something that burns on the way down but doesn’t taste like alcohol, a dangerous combination. Glass clinks together as cheers go up. Clarke hides against Octavia. Octavia finds herself wanting to hide against Clarke. It’s a strange feeling, almost as if she’s embarrassed, but she’s just so happy she doesn’t care. She isn’t used to being quite so physical with someone, Lincoln had been a lot more low key, but she doesn’t want to stop. She and Clarke have always been physically close and there’s something about this that feels right.

Clarke presses closer into Octavia’s side. Her hands become more adventurous with each passing minute it seems, even though she’s trying to stay sober, planning to match each drink with a glass of water. Everything from earlier is still buzzing between them and she doesn’t want to get drunk and push for what they aren’t ready for. So she settles for sipping at tonic water with lime and her arm around Octavia’s waist, thumb under the edge of her shirt, brushing against the warm skin of her hip.

She turns back to Lincoln, not wanting to spend the night with her attention only on Octavia, she doesn’t want to be that girl, as tempting as it is. 

“Are we doing a post-Christmas celebration when everyone is back in town after the holidays?” Lincoln leans back against the bar and glances between Niylah and Clarke. The tradition had started back when they were together and somehow they still were in charge of the party. The first year it had been on boxing day, but last year not everyone was back in time for that, so they had pushed it to just before new years.

“That’s the plan,” Clarke replies. “Are we trying to smoosh into me and Octavia’s place? Or….?”

Octavia leans over and puts her chin on Clarke’s shoulder. “We are down a coffee table, so on one hand, more space, on the other, nowhere to play kings.”

Niylah groans. “Why are we still insisting on that.”

“Because it is  _ the _ game of games and it’s  _ tradition _ ,” Harper interjects.

“Two years hardly makes a tradition,” Niylah retorts.

Clarke lets go of Octavia for a moment and leans over the counter, “Yeah, but it’s a start of one.” She grins, and tries to sneakily steal a couple of maraschino cherries for Octavia. She nearly succeeds but Niylah rolls her eyes and Clarke gives up on sneaky, and presents the overly sugared orbs to her girlfriend.

“Score!” Octavia takes the cherries by the stem and pops one into her mouth. “Thank you, Niylah!” She practically yells as she tips her head back to look at the bartender.

Slipping back down to sit on her stool Clarke wraps her arms around Octavia’s waist and pulls her close so she’s settled between her legs. Her thumb catches under the edge of Octavia’s shirt and she brushes it against the bare skin just above the waist of Octavia’s jeans. She leans her forehead into the back of Octavia’s head and breathes in. Hints of lavender hit her and she realizes Octavia’s been using her shampoo again. She doesn’t mind at all.

The night slips on, each time they shift their conversation Octavia and Clarke remain attached to each other, Clarke’s hands never straying far from Octavia and Octavia constantly seeking out contact. 

They’re barely into the second round of drinks when Octavia leans into Clarke, whispering in her ear, “Either you need to stop or we should get home.” She places a kiss just behind Clarke’s ear and takes the chance to nip gently at the skin to make her point clear. Today has been an emotional rollercoaster, and this feels like a sliver of a chance of them continuing to end on a high note. Even as she suggests it though her stomach drops out, nerves hitting her like she didn’t expect.

She tries not to think about how long it’s been, or the fact that she’s never been with a girl before. Except for now that she’s thinking about sex it’s the only thought in her head, that and how blue Clarke’s eyes are when they light up and sparkle.

“Take me home,” Clarke says as she tangles her hand in Octavia’s hair and pulls her in for a kiss. It’s a little messy and quick but it gets the point across.

By the time they’re out on the sidewalk neither Clarke nor Octavia remember if they said goodbye to everyone, or if they were obvious in their decision, ducking out early after only a couple of rounds. Neither of them cares, they hurry home, hand in hand, kissing at stop lights and stumbling up the stairs to their apartment, not willing to risk the dingy ill-lit elevator that may or may not let them out once it claims them.

Coats and shoes are left just inside the door that they just barely remember to lock and bolt– no interruptions this time. Clarke’s back hits Octavia’s bed and she bounces for a second, watching Octavia above her. Octavia stands there for a moment as Clarke scoots back on the bed, biting her lip, watching her girlfriend beckon her down with a curled finger.

Octavia crawls over Clarke, holding herself just above her girlfriend for a few moments. She brushes her nose against Clarke’s, lips almost touching. Now that they’re horizontal in bed, the intent between them clear she’s afraid to keep going. Her arms shake, not with the effort to hold herself up, but with fear. She knows what gets her off, but what if those things aren’t what Clarke likes? It’s supposed to be intuitive or something like that, but staring down at Clarke who looks enticing and excited, she can’t help but feel that her inexperience is going to ruin tonight.

She dips her head down and kisses Clarke deeply. If she gets them started maybe the momentum will carry her. It would help if she weren’t nearly in tears and shaking. She can feel in the way that Clarke kisses her back that she’s noticed.

Clarke presses her hands to Octavia’s shoulders to hold her back for a moment, “O, we don’t have to if you don’t want to–”

“I want to!” Octavia wriggles out of Clarke’s grasp and sits up. She crosses her arms and grabs her t-shirt and pulls it up over her head in one go before leaning back over and kissing Clarke softly. “I want to, okay?”

“You’re shaking.”

Octavia drops her forehead to Clarke’s shoulder and traces her finger along the edge of her collarbone, pressing her finger gently into the divot at the top of the sternum. Her whole body is yearning for her to continue but her head is racing a mile a minute because there are too many things that could go wrong. “What if I’m not good? Or I don’t like it?”

Clarke wraps her arms around Octavia and pulls her close, she presses kisses to the top of her head while she searches for the right thing to say, because she needs to say the right thing right now. Not the thing that ends in them having sex, though that is one possible outcome, she’s more worried that her girlfriend might be pushing herself into something she isn’t ready for because she thinks Clarke needs this.

“O, babe,” Clarke starts, still struggling for words. “Anything we do will be good.” She kisses her forehead then her nose, then she kisses her softly. It’s gentle and she means it to be a reassurance. “Besides, we can always practice. I’m up for practice if you are.” Clarke grins into the next kiss.

“Practice, huh?” Octavia plays along. “So you’re certain you’re going to want me again if I’m terrible?”

“O,” Clarke pulls back, “If you want us to have sex, I’m okay with that, if you don’t, I’m okay with that too.”

Octavia tugs on her bottom lip with her teeth, “So it’s okay if I…”

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” Clarke has all but unentangled her arms from Octavia’s waist where they’re wrapped loosely. As much as she wants this, she doesn’t want it if Octavia’s having second thoughts.

“I  _ want _ to do this… I  _ want  _ to want to do this…” Octavia can’t quite meet Clarke’s gaze. She feels like no matter what Clarke says she’ll disappoint her. The nerves feel like a blow to her confidence. When she was with Lincoln she knew what she was doing, she knew she was good at making him feel good… but with Clarke she doesn’t know where to start.

The kiss is a bit of a disaster. Octavia’s nerves get the better of her and she smacks her forehead against the still healing split in Clarke’s eyebrow before too much enthusiasm has them knocking their teeth together. 

Clarke pulls back, laughing lightly, only stopping when she sees the look on Octavia’s face, part humiliation and part fear. 

“It’s just me,” Clarke says gently. She reaches up to brush away the stray tear that’s started to roll down Octavia’s cheek . “I love you, and whatever happens or doesn’t tonight is okay with me.”

Octavia bites her bottom lip and presses her face into the pillow. They aren’t even undressed yet and she’s already feeling like a bumbling idiot that doesn’t know what to do. It’s not like she hasn’t undressed Clarke before. Though it’s never been like this.

“Hey,” Clarke coos gently as she peppers the side of Octavia’s face with silly kisses. “Come back to me.”

Turning her head slightly Octavia opens one eye and looks up at Clarke, the person she trusts most in the world. She doesn’t want to back down from her decision but she feels lost trying to move forward, too afraid of what could go wrong. “Will you show me?”

“I think I can manage that,” Clarke grins as she strokes Octavia’s back softly. Leaning in she begins to kiss her again, letting it build between them for a little while until they both start to pant, lips swollen and red, and hands some still obstinately on top of clothes.

Clarke sits up, reaching one hand behind her underneath her shirt as she flicks open the clasp of her bra. Next she pulls down the straps and shimmies out of it before tossing it aside, leaving her in her t-shirt. Gently she tugs Octavia up to sitting before straddling her lap. “If you want to stop at any time just say so, or if you want to slow down or pause, or anything. Okay?”

As she leans in to kiss Clarke, Octavia lets out a breathy  _ okay _ . The thought of what’s coming next is like an electric jolt straight to her core.

That’s all Clarke needs to grab Octavia’s hand and encourage it up under her shirt until both their hands are cupped around one of Clarke’s breasts, squeezing gently. Clarke moans but it’s Octavia that curses gently as she takes Clarke’s nipple between her fingers and flicks it, feeling it pebble and harden against her palm.

Clarke nips at Octavia’s bottom lip then swipes her tongue across it. Her hands trail down Octavia’s bare sides, nails scratching along skin as. She nudges Octavia into her lap as she lays back. 

They roll together, Octavia’s hands riding higher and pushing her shirt up. Soon Clarke’s shirt is tossed aside. Octavia’s bra goes the same direction soon after. Clarke kisses slowly down Octavia’s neck and across her chest. She slowly kisses around one of Octavia’s breasts, tongue swirly around a rosy nipple. She grins as Octavia arches into her mouth, hand tangling in her hair and holding her in place. 

Clarke gently bites down.

“Harder,” Octavia whispers as she tightens her grip in Clarke’s hair. Clarke gasps and complies, sinking her teeth into soft flesh until Octavia’s hips buck and she keens.

Clarke presses soft kisses to the red marks left by her teeth before turning her attention to Octavia’s other breast. Her hands trail down Octavia’s back until she can squeeze her ass. She works her hands on the waistband and grabs at the bare flesh. Octavia grinds down on Clarke and tilts Clarke’s head back so she can kiss her.

It’s more teeth and tongue and need than the kisses they’ve been exchanging and Clarke finds herself rolling her hips, holding Octavia down against her so they can both feel the friction. They kiss, bodies moving together, warm flesh pressed together, hands scrambling to touch and grab and scratch as it all builds between them.

Octavia is overwhelmed with want and need. It’s like her first time all over again and her worry that she’s not going to enjoy this starts to fade away a little more each time Clarke makes her moan. There’s still so much between them though, so many bridges they have yet to cross.

Breaking the kiss, Octavia holds Clarke’s face between her hands. Her chest is heaving and she hasn’t quite caught her breath. “Can we take off the rest of our clothes… I want…”

Clarke breaks out in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Please,” Octavia begs, her gaze drawing down Clarke’s exposed torso, followed by her forefinger as it trails down to the button on Clarke’s jeans.

“Do you want to undress me?” Clarke asks softly, offering up the option as she looks up at Octavia in wonder.

Octavia nods and flicks open the button and undoes the zipper. 

They’ve both stopped breathing as if Octavia hasn’t taken Clarke’s pants off before. Just usually Clarke has been half unconscious. There hasn’t been the promise of sex. Octavia slips her fingers under the waistband of Clarke’s jeans and coaxes her hips up so she can pull them down. Clarke complies, gasping slightly as she realizes Octavia has expertly hooked her underwear along with her jeans leaving her bare from head to toe.

Octavia’s chest heaves and she can’t quite catch her breath as she looks down at Clarke, legs spread slightly, completely exposed and waiting. Knowing that she can reach out and touch has her wishing she knew where to start. She starts to lean back over but Clarke stops her.

“My turn,” she whispers as she sits up. Clarke looks up at Octavia, eyes wide open, asking permission even as she holds Octavia’s hips and presses her lips to the bare skin just above her jeans.

Octavia nods, wondering if she’s ever seen anything sexier than Clarke, naked, looking up at her and waiting for permission to undress her. It rushes through her, the power of being able to say yes or no, knowing Clarke would obey.

Clarke turns her attention to Octavia’s jeans, making deft work of the button and the zipper as she kisses across the top of her underwear. With a jerk she tugs down Octavia’s skinny jeans. She closes her eyes and breathes in, unable to keep herself from savoring the moment and the scent of Octavia’s sex. Her lips hover just above it, close enough that Octavia can feel Clarke’s breath hot and damp through her underwear.

“Can I…” Clarke starts, eyes closing again as a wave of desire rolls through her. “Can I do you first?” She runs her fingertips under the edge of Octavia’s underwear, gently pulling it away from damp skin as she brushes up against the edges of her vulva. “I want…”

Octavia nods rapidly, chest heaving, “Yes.”

The one word spurs Clarke into action. She presses her hands to Octavia’s back at the same time that her lips press just above Octavia’s clit on the outside of her underwear. She groans and savours the moment even as she starts to slide Octavia’s underwear down.

Octavia’s pants are around her knees when Clarke kisses her again, lips and teeth gently working around the soft skin of her upper thighs. Her tongue darts out, pressing between Octavia’s thighs and up against her folds. Octavia’s gasps and her knees go weak, her hands press to Clarke’s shoulders, and Clarke grabs onto her thighs to hold her up. 

Clarke strips Octavia completely and flips her back onto the bed with a laugh. Octavia pulls Clarke down and kisses her sharply. Her need has pushed any insecurities out of her mind. “Make me see stars.”

Clarke doesn’t waste any time, biting and sucking her way down Octavia’s neck and torso until she’s settled between Octavia’s legs again. She’s only gentle again as she reaches out her tongue to part her folds. She follows the gesture with a single finger, running through the wetness she’s met with, circling around Octavia’s clit, watching her hips buck with desire, trying to follow the touch. Clarke follows Octavia’s cries of pleasure as an indication that she’s moving things in the right direction.

She doesn’t tease much longer, already feeling the trembling need as it shakes Octavia’s thighs.

Octavia remembers enjoying sex, loving the feeling of the pleasure and the exploration, knowing she could please her lover. This is different. It’s Clarke. Clarke who makes her laugh and feel safe and is now humming happily against her sex as her tongue does things she can’t describe too overwhelmed with feeling as she is. Her entire body fades away until she’s little more than a singular point of desire pulsing between her legs. 

She arches into Clarke’s mouth, her hand instinctively tangling in her hair to hold Clarke in place because they’re rushing toward that edge and if Clarke would just keep flicking her tongue just like that she’s going to crash into it soon. 

Octavia is only vaguely aware of how loud her breathy moans have become, her hips trying to grind on Clarke’s face, she has no control. Her muscles clench and she knows it’s only a few more moments of pleasure and then–

Clarke digs her nails into Octavia’s hips and Octavia screams out as she crashes over that edge, clenching and shuddering as Clarke pulls back, lapping at her slowly like she’s trying to savour melting ice cream.

Octavia feels her body go limp and lets the smile curl on her lips as Clarke keeps drawing out aftershocks of pleasure. She giggles and taps Clarke gesturing for her to come up for air.

Her eyelids are heavy, white bursts of static behind them as every gentle touch of Clarke’s hands make her gasp, like every nerve is open and exposed.

“Did I do okay?” Clarke whispers in Octavia’s ear. She wraps around her and pulls her close.

“Yeah,” Octavia nods, she turns over, still unable to open her eyes but she kiss Clarke. It’s messy and sticky and tastes like cum, and in that moment it’s perfect. “Really okay.”

Clarke cuddles Octavia into her, the look of peaceful bliss on her girlfriend’s face wraps around her heart and makes her feel as if after all the messiness of their lives they’re settling into the beginning of something amazing. She trails her fingers lazily over damp skin, content to lay here as Octavia comes back down to earth.

They cuddle there in bed, Octavia slowly coming back to, her throat raw. She runs her hands across Clarke’s skin, memorizing the feel of it under her hands. She lets her hand come to rest on Clarke’s hip, her thumb brushing across the bone that pelvic bone that protrudes in the front.

“I want to make you feel good,” Octavia says as she kisses Clarke softly. “Show me how you want me.”

Clarke feels a jolt in her core at the thought. She had been prepared for a heavy makeout session and Octavia asking that they wait, and with the taste of Octavia still on her tongue she knows she won’t last much longer.

“I want you up here with me when I come,” Clarke whispers.

Laying her hand on top of Octavia’s she guides their hands between her legs and hooks one of her legs over Octavia’s hips to give her room and leverage. She cups her sex with their hands and her eyes roll back and close. Clarke sucks in a breath trying to keep her focus as she presses her middle finger against Octavia’s and feels it part her folds and press inside her.

She presses their fingers in deeper, curling them until they hit the spot just behind her public bone. “There,” she whispers. Octavia runs the tip of her finger across the spot experimentally and Clarke’s breath catches in her throat. She guides Octavia’s thumb toward her clit, running circles around it. “And there.”

Taking her hand away she rolls her hips against Octavia’s hand to encourage her. They start out slowly, Octavia moving carefully, watching Clarke’s face intently, but it doesn’t take them long to build up momentum, pleasure building up between Clarke’s legs. Octavia adds a second finger and Clarke whimpers in pleasure.

Octavia finds that burying her fingers deep and rubbing against the ribbed spot that Clarke showed her makes Clarke writhe and cling in ways that should be illegal. She loves the way Clarke is warm and soft and needing her. The way Clarke closes her eyes each time she gets closer to orgasm, giving up control and trust until they’re falling in and out of sync in desperation to chase that edge.

Clarke clings to Octavia, her hips rocking and nails raking lines across Octavia’s back. She moans, crying out softly, breath hot and heavy against Octavia’s ear. She whispers encouragement, how close she is, how good this feels. Her hips become more erratic until her muscle clench, her breath catches and she cries out, not much more than a breathy moan as she feels that release of falling over the edge. She bites down on Octavia’s shoulder.

Octavia swipes her thumb across Clarke’s clit a few more times gently as she slows her pace, revelling in the feeling of Clarke clenching around her fingers. She slips out of her and brings her fingers to her mouth sucking them clean, getting her first taste of Clarke. Her eyes roll back and she lets out her own moan, knowing that she needs them to have at least one more round tonight, this time with her head between Clarke’s legs. She’ll happily stay there all night until she gets it right.

Reaching out she turns Clarke’s face toward her, and kisses her softly. Clarke kisses her back still half in a haze. They’re sticky and damp and twisted up in the bedsheets and neither wants to move or let go, though Octavia does pull a fleece blanket over them for warmth.

Octavia nuzzles Clarke, “I’m going to assume based on that little blissed out smile that I did okay.” There’s a hint of pride and a smile in her voice. 

Clarke shoves Octavia’s shoulder, but the smile on her face just gets bigger. “I dunno, we might need to have you practice a few more times before I weigh in,” she teases.

Octavia sits up and slides across Clarke’s lap, straddling her, she leans over to pepper her face with kisses. “Is that so, huh?”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Clarke says, grinning, trying to catch Octavia to kiss her properly.

When she does they tumble back onto the bed, rolling over, tangling themselves up more. It’s a little bit of bliss and a lot of happiness, and a lot like the start of something wonderful that’s already changing their lives in ways they never imagined.

They both hope it never stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue coming in ~2 weeks.
> 
> I can't believe this story is coming to a close, how far all these girls have come over the course of the story, and how many of your stories I've heard. This story will forever have a special place in my heart thanks to all of your for asking for more and helping it grow. Join me on [tumblr](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com/) if you haven't already for more gay adventures.


	38. Epilogue | present day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so, the beginning of the end. Well, I mean, this is the last planned updated for _and four makes home_.
> 
> I've loved writing this story and sharing it with you all. It's been an absolute joy to talk with those of you that leave comments here and message me on tumblr. As always, you can find me on tumblr at [dreamsheartstory](http://dreamsheartstory.tumblr.com).
> 
> As for what's coming next for stories from me:  
>  _[from ruins flowers bloom](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8675581)_ \- ranya - ongoing - Raven Reyes is just trying to survive the ground and save her people. Having lost the one she loved and nearly lost her life she feels like a hollow ruin of the person she once was. By her side, never letting her give up, reminding her that beautiful things flourish in adversity, is Anya. This isn't what she asked for, this isn't what she wanted... but maybe, just maybe, it's what she needs.  
>  _letters (write me your love)_ \- lexaven - will start posting in a couple of weeks - Nothing says long messy breakup quite like a separation. Six months of no contact and Raven leaves Lexa with a stack of letters detailing all the things she never found a way to say out loud. Love isn’t always enough, but maybe it’s enough for a second chance.
> 
> _a yet untitled fic_ \- Team MVP - this is in the early planning stages, but I'm not quite done with the 'ot4 verse yet.
> 
> And there's also my original work, check out my tumblr for information about how to get to that since I can't link it from here because TOS. 
> 
> And thank you to all the readers that have been with me since the start and all of you that joined along the way! I hope you enjoy the epilogue (all 25k of it)  
> <3 <3 <3 M

 

Octavia wakes first even though it’s past noon by the time the sunlight warms her face, and under the blankets with her girls feels like an oven. Last night they had stayed out late celebrating with their friends. Niylah had called in Atom to run the bar and they had all holed up with drinks and music well into the night.

Yesterday feels like it changed everything.

Lexa is lighter, Raven more open, Clarke assured. Their dynamic shifted again and it feels like they’re simply happy.

Octavia rolls over and stretches, missing the warm press of Clarke’s body as she slides from the bed. The allure of staying with her girls is strong but her head is filled with a dull ache and all the water glasses near the bed are empty. She stretches again as she walks, fetching her underwear and a t-shirt from the dresser. The late morning feels lazy and decadent and like just what they needed after the day before.

On top of the dress near where Raven usually drops everything in her pockets is a letter with Octavia’s name on it written in Bellamy’s handwriting. It’s creased and crinkled like it was in someone’s pocket all night. She picks it up and looks back at the bed where Clarke, Lexa, and Raven are still asleep, curled together and sprawled out in different measure.

Octavia slips out of the room and heads downstairs. Her heart pounds in her chest. None of them have heard from Bellamy since Christmas except in the form of an occasional update from Gina, and one from Raven because of the university gossip. Starting spring term he had taken a sabbatical. Later, they had learned from Gina that he had checked himself into an intensive anger management and therapy program.

As she settles down on the couch with a glass of water and the letter, she doesn’t know if she wants to open it or not. He’s her brother, her only blood family that she has ever truly wanted in her life, but he has done and said so many things that have caused her and the ones she loves pain that she doesn’t know how to move forward.

She should have put her foot down when he hit Clarke, and when he threatened Lexa she should have given him an ultimatum. It should never have come to the fight at Christmas. He should have know about them long before then, and he should have been supportive.

If he even has it in him to be.

In that moment Octavia isn’t sure what she wants from her brother. She turns the letter over in her hands. If she doesn’t open it, the letter is both everything she needs it to be and nothing at all. The only certainty she feels is that Gina gave the letter to Raven, and not her, and Raven shoved it in her pocket for the rest of the night.

Part of her is angry that Raven didn’t give it to her right away, but then again, so much had been happening the night before that maybe this would have been the one thing too many for them all. She turns the letter over again and again, not yet having decided if she will open it.

So intent is Octavia on the letter that she doesn’t realize Raven has come down the stairs and crutched across to the couch until one of Raven’s crutches clatters to the floor as she tries to balance them against the arm. Octavia jumps and crumples the letter in her hand.

“Just me, O,” Raven says with a small laugh. “I see you found the letter.” She sits down next to her girlfriend and steals a long drink of water from the glass on the coffee table.

“Morning,” Octavia mumbles.

“Are you going to read it?” Raven leans over and wraps an arm around Octavia’s shoulders.

“Still debating,” Octavia sinks into Raven’s side, settling into the familiar warmth. “What does he even think this is going to do? It’s not like anything he writes will make me want to forgive him.”

Raven kisses Octavia’s temple, “That’s up to you, if he’s worth your time or not, but I know you miss what you had.” She leans her head against Octavia’s shoulder and wishes she had some kind of panacea. “He did a lot of unforgivable things.”

“Gina still with him?” Octavia asks. She and Gina have made a tacit agreement that they don’t discuss Bellamy, not until this clears.

“She handed me the letter.” Raven nuzzles into Octavia trying to ward off the fine tremble she can feel starting up.

The last thing she wants is this worry over her brother beating against her heart, but she misses him and she can’t help but try to reason out what happened to him. “Did she say anything about Bell last night?” She turns the letter over again so she can see her name and gently tries to smooth out the envelope.

“Just that he didn’t want to do anything that would ruin the night for us or for Clarke. Seemed as if maybe he regretted not being there, he almost came, but he thought it would do more harm than good to show up.” Raven shrugs. She settles her hand on Octavia’s knee and brushes her thumb across it. On one hand she wants Octavia to have her brother back, the one that loves her unconditionally and makes bad jokes, the one Raven remembers being friends with. On the other hand she wants him to experience the hell he’s put them through, and cutting him out of their lives is a fairly effective way to go about that.

“Read it with me?” Octavia’s voice is barely a whisper.

Raven sits up and pulls Octavia’s legs across her lap. “Of course.”

At worst, it will be a thin apology, at best it will confuse the situation further. At what point does love trump something unforgivable? Moreso even, how do they know the apology is sincere and that Bellamy has earned a second chance. What is the point where they say that it doesn’t matter how much Bellamy changes, the hurt he’s done is to much to repair the damage?

They won’t find the answers with just the two of them, but ultimately, as he is Octavia’s brother, Raven feels the decision should lie with her.

The letter is only one page, handwritten in Bellamy’s small scratchy script. It’s free from anything being scratched out, or scribbled over and Raven wonders how many drafts of this letter he wrote.

_ Octavia, _

_ I don’t know if I’ll be handing this to you in person, or if Gina will agree to bring it on my behalf. I hate asking her to be a go between, but now that I’ve decided that this is the time to write this, I don’t want to wait for it to get to you in the mail. I never have been patient, but you know that. I like action more than sitting and waiting things out. _

_ These past six months have been hell, but I’m not going to complain about that. I deserve that and more for what I’ve done, and I understand if you decide you don’t want me in your life anymore– or if Clarke or Lexa or Raven say having me around would be more than any of them want to handle. _

_ I fucked up, O. _

_ And it wasn’t just at Christmas. It was the day you moved into your house with Lexa. I should have seen what you weren’t telling me. You’re my little sister and I’ve missed out on a really big part of your life for too long because I couldn’t see past my own prejudices and fears. I took support you needed from you, and tarnished any good memories you had of me. _

_ It was the day I shoved Clarke, too. I don’t know how she didn’t tell you to kick me out of your life right then. If someone had done that to you they would have been out of your life. I think, after you, I have the most to make up for with Clarke. She’s been our family for too long and I forgot that. _

_ I’m sorry for all the hurt I caused, and if you’ll allow it, I would like to make it up to you. All of you. _

_ I love you, and I’ve been shit and showing it. _

_ It’s up to you and your girls though. If you say no I understand. Take your time. Either way, know that I’m working to be a better person and learn from the pain that I’ve caused so that I don’t do it again. _

_ Love, _

_ Bellamy _

Octavia reads the letter three times before she lets it fall to her lap. Her heart constricts in her throat and she feels hollow. His words are everything an apology should be and she doesn’t know if she can to believe them or not. 

She wants to and it tears at her.

The sob escapes before she can hold it back and she collapses forward into Raven’s lap. She hates crying but she can’t resolve the conflicting feelings inside her. The deeper into the spiral she sinks the more her heart breaks. 

Growing up all she wanted was to feel like she belonged where she was, instead of just something to be taken care of. She wanted a family and a home. When she met Clarke that started to build, she had Bellamy and she had the Griffins, and she learned early on that maybe family didn’t always look like two parents and a couple of kids, a dog in the backyard and aunts and uncles and grandparents. Sometimes it just looked like people who chose to love and chose to be kind to one another.

She was always wary of it though, what if she ruined her chances and lost everything?

These past several years, with Clarke, and Lexa, and Raven, and their friends, they’ve built a family. It’s weird and unconventional in so many ways but it’s theirs. It will never look like what society thinks it should but there’s nothing she wants more than to be a part of it.

She wants Bellamy to be a part of it. He’s the one who protected her growing up, made sure she had food to eat at night, tucked her into bed. He protected her from the asshole her mother started dating when she was eight. Bellamy helped her with her homework and picked her up from school or from the Griffin’s. 

Bellamy is the reason she had a chance at all.

Then the less that she needed him the more they drifted apart, until they become unrecognizable to one another. Bellamy let himself devolve into their common oppressor. He became anger and fear and hate.

Octavia hides her face against Raven’s neck and moves so she’s fully in Raven’s lap. She has to decide if she cuts Bellamy out forever or risks him lashing out again.

Raven holds onto Octavia as best she can to comfort her. She’s angry that Bellamy asked to be let back into their lives in this way. That shouldn’t have been part of the letter and she knows that is what is tearing Octavia apart. This feels like a slap across the face after yesterday. Everything they went through just yesterday. Scabs have barely formed on Octavia’s knees, and they’re all still nursing hangovers, both actual and emotional.

Soft footsteps are on the stairs and a moment later a sleepy Clarke and Lexa are piling onto the couch.

Lexa curls against Raven’s side, her hand resting on Octavia’s back, and Clarke mirrors her on the other side.

“What happened?” Lexa asks softly.

Raven gestures to the letter on the table. “Gina handed me a letter from Bellamy last night.”

Clarke curses and presses her face to the side of Octavia’s, whispering to her.

Lexa leans over and snatches up the letter, “It would have been nice to just have had a day to settle after yesterday,” she says half to herself. Scanning the letter quickly her heart sinks. It would have been easier if Bellamy had stayed angry and belligerent. His apology complicates the matter, especially if it is sincere. “Oh, O.” Lexa presses a kiss to her hair and another to Raven’s temple and twists so she can hug them both as best she can.

Clarke slips the letter from Lexa’s hand and settles back on the couch to read it. He’s trying to make amends but she doesn’t know if any of them are ready for him to. Especially after yesterday the pain and the fear that comes with exposing their relationship, fighting back feelings and demons from their past. They needed a moment to breath. She resists the urge to ball up the letter and tosses it back towards the coffee table.

At least they have each other. They can move forward together.

Octavia cries harder as her girls wrap around her. She can’t make it stop, and she’s starting to hyperventilate. Her chest heaves and sobs wrack her body and no matter how much air she feels like she’s breathing in it isn’t enough, but she can’t seem to halt the crying long enough to actually breathe.

Someone’s hand is on her chest, another on her back. Raven’s lips are against her ear as she whispers for her to breathe, slowing her breathing down as they all move slowly, trying to soothe her, except this hurts worse than any of the times he screwed up.

This isn’t him breaking her heart.

This is the moment she realizes she’ll never be able to trust him again regardless of what happens next. 

##  _______________________________________

 

They trade off laying there on the couch with Octavia curled up all day and into the night. It’s a little bit past dinner and Raven is working out and Clarke is painting needing a break from the couch for a little while. Lexa is curled into one end of the couch reading a book while Octavia lays at the other, their feet are tangled in the middle.

“Lexa?” Octavia’s voice is watery and full of tears that she’s shed. There’s a seriousness on the edge of it.

Lexa looks up from her book and sets it aside, as she moves so that she’s facing Octavia. “What is it?”

“What do I do?” She looks for a moment as if she might start crying again and her voice cracks but the tears don’t come.

“I–” Lexa’s heart constricts and sinks in her chest. She wishes this had not been what happened, or that she could take away the pain in Octavia’s eyes. It’s the broken trust that she knows is hard to repair. It’s the way she knows that Octavia is questioning everything because everything she built on and trusted and knew has broken. 

“I don’t want him to hurt us again.”

“I think that if you want him to stay away that’s fair for you to ask of him and us.” Lexa scoots closer, and reaches out so she can take Octavia’s hand. That was the easy thing to say, if this were her decision that is what she would decide. She has a lot to make up for though, and she needs to compromise and maybe she can make something right in this. “He’s your brother though. And I know you and he were very close. I know Clarke was close with him, too. So if you want to see if he’s sincere, maybe we try to talk to him.”

Octavia shakes her head, her eyes wide, and stares at Lexa. That isn’t the answer she expected. She expected Lexa to say to kick him out of their lives. 

“If the others are in agreement that is.” Lexa ducks her head. “If you don’t want to talk to him alone I would be willing to go with you.”

“What if he…” Octavia doesn’t want to say it. She can feel the press of tears but they won’t come as if she’s cried all the tears she had. Even as the memory of Clarke’s face bloody and bruised comes to her she simply sinks into herself. “I don’t want him to have a chance to hurt you again.”

Lexa watches as emotions flicker across Octavia’s face almost too quickly to register. She collapses forward and presses her face into Lexa’s lap. Lexa has no choice but to cradle her close. Sobs wrack Octavia’s frame but she still doesn’t cry.

“I hate myself for it, but I miss him.”

Lexa leans over Octavia and presses closer. The angles awkward but she doesn’t want to pull apart to get closer. Her lips press to the back of Octavia’s head and she knows that the tears in her eyes make her voice crack. Family has always been something she’s struggled with, the need to belong, to be wanted, to be able to trust someone because they’re your family. She whispers to Octavia trying to find the words to tell her not to beat herself up over this. If she had the words she would. Maybe if she had the words it wouldn’t have taken years for her to open her heart back up again once trust had been broken.

All she can offer is her love and so she gives everything she has.

##  _______________________________________

 

Clarke jumps slightly as someone knocks on the door to her studio. She sets down her brush and stretches. When she doesn’t hear footsteps or anything she turns to see Lexa waiting patiently. There’s a tired, haggard look that hangs over her.

“Can we talk about Bellamy for a minute?” Lexa doesn’t think there’s a point in beating around the topic until she lands on it. Octavia is passed out on the couch downstairs and she wants to do something right.

“Yeah,” Clarke sounds more wary than she means to. She doesn’t know where this is going but Lexa has been with Octavia for the past hour or so and she knows the elder Blake has been on all their minds since that morning when they read the letter.

Lexa leans gingerly against Clarke’s table, careful not to disturb anything and fully aware she’ll probably end up with paint on her ass. She can’t bring herself to care about it in that moment. “Cutting Bellamy out of her life is breaking Octavia.”

Clarke leans forward, her elbows digging into her thighs as she leans her chin in her hands. She looks up at Lexa without moving her head. “How the fuck does this get fixed?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa crosses and uncrosses her arms. “I hate him for what he did, but he’s O’s brother.”

“I’ve forgiven him before, and look how well that turned out.” Clarke rubs at her eyebrow as the memory flashing through her. “He never should have had the chance he had at Christmas.”

“No, he shouldn’t have.” Lexa slumps slightly, she’s not having this conversation to feel vindicated or right, she’s doing this to find out if there’s a way they can alleviate Octavia’s pain. “Is there some way we could accept him back into our lives? I’m not talking forgiving him right away, or taking him at his word that he wants to change, or has changed, but giving him very specific parameters to potentially operate in.”

“Have you talked to Raven?” Clarke doesn’t know how to answer that, her feelings for Bellamy are too complex.

“Not yet.” Lexa reaches out and wraps her hand around Clarke’s wrist, she rubs her thumb along the back of her hand. “I wanted to talk to you first, you have more history with him… he’s hurt you multiple times.”

Clarke presses the heels of her hands into her eyes then runs them through her hair. She doesn’t want to think about this. Except Bellamy is Octavia’s brother, he was family. Is family. He just doesn’t feel like what family should be. “This is just such a fucking mess.”

Lexa snorts, “That’s an understatement.”

Resting with one hand behind her neck, her head cradled to her arm, and her elbow on her thigh, Clarke reaches out her free hand to take Lexa’s. “Do you think we can trust what he wrote?”

Lexa squeezes Clarke’s hand. “His words sound right, but I think that only meeting with him in person will give us the truth.” As much as she doesn’t want to, she can’t let Octavia keep beating herself up for missing Bellamy, and maybe giving them one more chance to talk will help.

“Go talk to Raven then, see what she has to say.” Clarke stands up and wraps Lexa in a hug. Her head falls to Lexa’s shoulder, and Lexa leans her cheek into her. Their arms curl around each other gently, a soft comfort as they sway together. Lexa runs her hands slowly up and down Clarke’s spine. This won’t be easy but maybe it will be worth it.

##  _______________________________________

 

Raven should have stopped after the last circuit but she’s still too frustrated, all the energy she tried to work out is still running through her. She’s been on edge since she woke up and found Octavia on the couch with Bellamy’s letter, alone, conflicted, and breaking apart. Her muscles strain and shake as she does another two pull-ups, it’s all her shoulders can take this round. Lowering herself off the pull up bar she drops into a pushup position and starts to count out another set, planning to max out everything on her circuit and call this one quits.

She’s too engrossed in counting and wondering what she’s going to consider her max to really process the fact that someone knocked on the doorframe. It’s not until she lets herself collapse to the ground with shaky arms and rolls over that she sees Lexa standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame and waiting quietly.

“Can we talk about Bellamy for a minute?”

Raven sits up halfway and lets herself crash back into the floor. “Hold my feet while I do sit ups.”

Lexa settles in cross legged on the floor and places her hands gently on Raven’s ankles, one flesh, the other metal and plastic. “Sit ups are bad for your back.”

Raven narrows her eyes but she commences with doing crunches instead. “You can help me stretch next then. I’m just pissed about this whole thing with Bell. Like how the hell does he think any of this is going to be taken well. Does he expect us to just forgive him?”

Lexa shrugs and chews on her lip as she rubs her thumb across Raven’s ankle. “I honestly don’t know, but I know the whole thing is eating away at Octavia.”

She continues on with crunches until her abs start to burn and she does a single sit up to sit up fully. Except for at Christmas Raven hadn’t ever really experienced this side of Bellamy, she’d heard the stories but they seemed mostly to be things of the past. None of them had ever talked about him like it might be this level of a problem. She should have known though. It should have been obvious that this was coming with how nervous they had been with telling him.

They just didn’t talk about it, and she hadn’t thought to push it.

Raven straightens her legs and leans over, resting her head on her knees. “Of course this is eating at her. He’s her brother and he fucked up, and now he’s asking her for forgiveness, again. We kicked him out of our house at Christmas, there’s no way she’s okay with this, no matter how many times he apologizes.”

“For her sake do you think we could be open to the idea of at least talking to him once?” Lexa scoots along the floor and presses her hands gently against Raven’s lower back, deepening the stretch. “You should move into straddle.”

Raven shifts and lays her chest on the floor. Lexa works her fingers along Raven’s spine.

“Does she want to talk to him?”

Lexa leans over and presses a kiss between Raven’s shoulder blades. “I don’t know.” The words are barely a whisper. “But I think if she does we should decide where we stand.”

“He’s an asshole,” Raven snorts incredulously.

“Aside from that.” Lexa sits up and pulls Raven with her. Raven shakes out the stretch from her legs.

“He has a lot of work to do if he wants to try to fix this. It isn’t going to happen overnight.” Raven turns to meet Lexa’s eyes. “And if he so much as sneezes wrong he gets dropkicked to the curb.”

Lexa leans in and kisses her on the cheek. “That’s about what I was thinking, and Clarke, too.”

“So now what?”

Lexa leans into Raven and breathes out heavily. “Now we tell Octavia that if she wants to repair her relationship with her brother we won’t stand in her way, but we have some conditions.”

##  _______________________________________

 

Three weeks pass before Octavia decides what she wants to do, and she changes her mind four more times before she finally picks up the phone to call Bellamy. It isn’t an easy decision to make, but no one says anything against it, just reiterates the ground rules.

Any one of them can say it’s too much at any time, that it’s clear he hasn’t changed and isn’t making the effort. One strike and he’s gone. There are no second chances.

They pick neutral ground, a restaurant where none of them are known on sight, and six of them squeeze around the table. It had nearly been nine of them, Anya, Lincoln, and Niylah not wanting to leave them alone with Bellamy, but it had been agreed upon that perhaps they were inviting a fight if they all showed up. As it was, Lexa, Octavia, Clarke, and Raven sat around a table with Gina and Bellamy. Whether Gina had shown up to support Bellamy or to keep him from lashing out was yet to be seen.

Around them the restaurant hums with a contented slow paced Saturday mid-afternoon vibe. By some lucky twist of fate they’re in a corner by themselves, far enough away that they can’t quite make out conversation and hope that the same is true in reverse.

Still, the first thing Gina said was that she wasn’t here to talk, just to be there if she was needed.

The conversation starts slowly, Bellamy asking about the art show. Carefully Octavia broaches the topic that they came out publically. Bellamy breaks into a grin and says how he saw the articles in the paper, both the ones that looked at them favorably and those that didn’t.

None of the girls knows how to react when he starts talking about how he followed the debate in the media and how it was really helpful for him to see some of the things he’s been working to accept debated. 

He pauses, talking nothing of his reaction to the debates, and the four hold their breath.

It’s Raven who breaks the silence, “So what did you think of the bigots’ argument?”

Bellamy flinches slightly. “That’s fair.” He looks down at the table and sips at his water. “They said a lot of the same things I did.”

“I could call you a lot of things and it’d still be fair.” Raven drops her voice and there’s a deadly look in her eyes that’s only amplified by the set of her jaw. She only softens, and even then only slightly, when Octavia reaches out under the table and takes her hand.

Bellamy nods and swallows but he doesn’t argue.

“Like I said in the letter, I don’t expect any of you to forgive me, but I’d like to earn it.” He twirls a nearly empty water glass in his hands like he’s trying to keep himself even and he’s fighting himself.

Lexa leans into Clarke as she watches Bellamy, trying to deconstruct him like she would a witness on the stand, where does she push to make him admit the things he doesn’t quite want to admit. She lays her head gently against Clarke’s and reaches across with her right hand to take Clarke’s right hand so even though their hands are hidden by the table, it’s clear. Clarke reaches out for Octavia’s hand on the table and entwines their fingers between the placemats. Octavia rests her arm around Raven’s shoulders and Raven leans into the embrace.

Maybe it’s a little much but it’s what they need right then.

Bellamy sits still and watches them. Lexa watches him as he does, noticing the pulse of the vein above his temple as it flickers, the way he nearly fumbles his water glass.

“Are you happy, O?” His voice is soft and defeated.

Clarke tightens her grip and Raven brings up a hand to hold Octavia’s on her shoulder.

Octavia sucks in a breath and stares Bellamy down. “With them, yes. With how you’ve treated them, and me, not at all.”

Bellamy nods and sets down his glass. He purses his lips. His eyes are shiny, but his voice doesn’t waver. “If you want me to go I will. I don’t know how to fix or undo what I’ve done.”

“You can’t,” Lexa sits up switching her right hand for her left in Clarke’s. 

Bellamy nods and for a moment it looks like he might get up and leave. His gaze flicks to Gina and for a moment they watch each other. She shrugs and he breathes out and sits back in his chair.

“Then what can I do?”

“If you stay, you can’t fuck up again, not even a little.” Clarke leans forward, “You’ve used up all the goodwill you ever had with any of us.” Her words are steady but inside she’s trembling. After all these years there’s still a part of her that wants to flinch away from him.

Raven tips her chin up, it’s haughty and proud and self-assured, made moreso by the way she’s leaned back in her chair almost curled into Octavia’s side. “So prove to us that you want to be in our lives. Why should we let you stay?”

Silence hits the table and the four of them wait and watch. Bellamy rubs a hand across his brow and forces out a breathe in a loud stream of air. “I broke too many promises. I missed things I promised you, that I promised myself, I wouldn’t.”

“So?” Octavia raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t get that back, and I don’t want to miss another opportunity to support you– any of you,” the last feels added on, but it’s there, and he seems to be standing by it. Whether or not it’s all an elaborate act or not is yet to be seen, but why bother going through all this if he truly wants nothing to do with them or their life. 

One day at a time they’ll decide if he’s kept his word.

##  _______________________________________

 

**Three weeks later.**

 

Clarke lets out a steady breath and tears the page from her sketchbook.

Four overlapping circles overlay a minimalistic compass rose. Over the top are splashes of watercolor in the colors that remind her of them. Raven is a burnt orange gold. Lexa, a dark mauve. Octavia a deep rose with purple undertones. For herself Clarke has selected a blue the color of the tropical ocean.

It’s been months, but she’s known she wants a new tattoo for longer than that. Ever since the thought came to her she’s known it needed to be for her girls, for what they have, but she didn’t know what to get. How does she embody what they have and what they are, but also not fall prey to the trap that is getting a relationship tattoo.

Even getting somehow more concretely symbolic of them at this point felt like a bad idea in all caps. This though is something more. She already has a simple compass rose on her left side for her father. Impulse and grief drug her to the tattoo parlour the day after she turned eighteen. Another compass rose seems right though.

Growing up her father had been the one to guide her life, point her in directions she needed to explore. Now that he is gone and she is grown she’s finding that her direction comes from within, but also from her partners. Their family, their friends, extensions of that, but at the core, there are the four of them pulling away in different directions to balance each other out.

Clarke blows on the paper, trying to dry the still damp water color before she moves. There’s something about the minimalism of this that calls to her.

She stands up, body creaking and joints stiff and makes her way downstairs.

The itch is there for a tattoo, the new ink feel. It’s pride in having endured, it’s the love of the art, it’s the high from the pain. She knows that last is an expenditure of energy to keep her level. It builds and builds and builds and she knows she wants to give in so the itch will go away because there are much less acceptable ways the itch can be scratched. 

So far she’s survived without scratching in that particular way. She’s felt it press on her mind and reverberate through her until she can think of nothing else, held a blade in her hand and touched it to her skin and left it there, but never has she folded. Good or bad she’s tortured herself with the idea of inflicting pain, and ever since she had that tattoo done for her father when she turned eighteen she’s known the release it could bring. 

At first it’s just a scratching, a sharp metallic rip of skin, then it starts to burn, and then the pain sets in, and all the while, it’s still a steady almost scratch but not quite. 

Lately it’s been calling to her. 

Clarke tries not to crumple the paper between her fingers because she knows this is something she wants. She can feel it deep inside, the way it resonates so thoroughly that she doesn’t need to ask where the impetus came from, the outcome is something she desires.

It’s a tribute to what they’ve survived, and a prayer that they’ll continue to.

Her girls are all on the couch, which makes this as good a time as any to bring up her plan. Clarke plops down on the couch between Raven and Lexa, her legs swing over Raven’s lap and she leans against Lexa. She snuggles down into the couch and whispers hellos between soft kisses.

“I think I’m going to get another tattoo,” she declares as she hands the paper to Raven.

Raven takes it gingerly, knowing that Clarke rarely rips anything from one of her sketchbooks. The image is simple but there’s a beauty to it. She can see Clarke’s lines in it, the angles that she favors, the particular shades of paint that she has picked. 

Lexa leans over Clarke’s shoulder to look at the image. Four circles, distinct but connected, and a compass rose, or a semblance of one. She presses a kiss to the side of Clarke’s head and wonders if the air of sadness will ever fully leave Clarke, that searching, yearning need to find direction.

“Are you sure?” Octavia asks. She can’t keep out the worry from her voice, knowing that Clarke’s penchant for pain comes from a place that isn’t always healthy. She’s seen it take dark turns before and things have been going well for Clarke lately she can’t help but feel a curl of fear in her stomach.

Clarke slips down Lexa’s side so she’s leaning backwards over her lap to look up at Octavia. “Positive,” she reaches up and beckons Octavia down for a soft upside down kiss. “This has been on my mind for a while. I just didn’t know what it looked like.”

Octavia acquiesces slowly not quite wanting to just give in and kiss Clarke. All the conversations they’ve had over the years about tattoos and why Clarke hasn’t gone back for a second one, her fears and desires. All of the things Clarke has ever asked for in bed. All of it passes through Octavia’s mind as she lets go and leans down to kiss Clarke. 

“If you’re certain,” she whispers.

“The only thing I’m more certain of is the three of you.”

##  _______________________________________

 

**An indeterminate and mildly unimportant amount of time after the last scene but still sometime before summer ends...**

 

Lexa’s home from work early than she expected for a court day. Her case got moved last minute and she can’t stare at her office walls any longer. She’s been prepping this case for weeks and she just can’t look at the paperwork without her eyes going crossed. Maybe she’ll go in early tomorrow and revise, but right now she needs to relax. 

The house is quiet, which is what she expected, but not what she wanted. She slips her phone out of her pocket and shoots a quick text off to Octavia. Lexa needs a distraction and of all the girls she knows Octavia is almost always up for the exact kind of distraction she wants.

_ Lexa 4:22pm :  _ How long until you can get off work? I don’t think anyone else is home. ;)

She drops her keys in the dish on the bookshelf by the door. Off come her heels and her coat and her shirt is half unbuttoned when she hears movement coming from the kitchen. A few more steps and she sees a flash of blonde hair and pale white skin. Clarke.

Texting Octavia she had other plans in mind that involved a lot more question about who would end up on top first, but the thought of Clarke and some of the things they’ve been exploring in bed twist up the desire inside her. She’s learning why Octavia enjoys giving pleasure so much, in taking that level of control.

Lexa steps quietly into the kitchen, watching Clarke for a moment as she hums to herself, half bent over looking in the refrigerator. She isn’t wearing much of anything, which is pretty usual when Clarke is home alone painting, but Lexa’s been on edge and the sight of the curve of Clarke’s ass left bare by her barely there panties, her torso barely covered by a loose racerback tank top, she can’t handle it. Her breath hitches and she can feel the familiar budding pulse between her legs.

Clarke stands up, the bottom edge of her tanktop just brushing the tops of her thighs, the blue material loose around her. Lexa’s eyes trace over the softness of Clarke’s shoulders, the hint of her side and the still-fresh tattoo etched into her skin, then back up again to the length of her neck, elongated by the high bun her messy blonde hair is pulled into. She shimmies and sways her hips in time with the tune she’s humming as she moves from the refrigerator to the cupboard.

Four long strides and Lexa is flush against Clarke, whispering hello against her neck, as she reaches for the glass Clarke was trying to grab from the cabinet. Hips pressed against the curve of Clarke’s ass, chest pressed to shoulder blades, arm against arm until her fingers wrap around the glass. She sets it down on the counter with a solid thump.

“Lexa,” Clarke gasps. “You startled me, I-” she tilts her head to the side as Lexa continues to kiss down her neck, her hands already underneath the front of Clarke’s tank top, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of her stomach. She moans and presses her hands into the counter, “Fuck, Lexa… I didn’t know you were- oh god,” Lexa bites down on her neck and Clarke nearly collapses forward. 

Lexa holds her up as Clarke tries to get a handle on the sensations rushing through her body. She was just getting something to drink and then Lexa was home, and Lexa’s hands are on her and not that she’s complaining but she doesn’t know why. She lets her head roll to the other side as Lexa kisses across the back of her neck, all tongue and teeth, as relentless as the hands now cupping her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples through the fabric of her bra. Writhing under Lexa’s touch she rolls her hips, pressing her ass more firmly against Lexa. She’s not sure if she really needs a why.

“Rough day at wo-”

“-less talking?” Lexa growls but she pauses her hands and mouth still firmly attached to Clarke’s skin. “Later,” she whispers.

Clarke nods, turning her head and nuzzling Lexa’s cheek with her nose until Lexa’s lips crash into hers and she feels Lexa’s hands continue their frenzied ministrations, unhooking her bra, and sliding it off until it’s caught in Clarke’s shirt between her torso and the counter. 

The angle is harsh and the kiss is sloppy but fuck it makes her want more. She tries to turn, get her back to the counter and Lexa in front of her, but Lexa’s hands are on her hips holding her in place.

Lexa breaks the kiss using her hips to keep Clarke pressed firmly against the counter as she tugs Clarke’s tank top over her head. She tosses it and the bra aside. Her fingertips catch Clarke’s wrists trailing gently down her arms as Clarke gasps and squirms at the light touch. Pressing her palms flat to Clarke’s side she feels her erratic heartbeat thudding between her ribs as she continues the descent of her hands, nails catching lightly on soft skin. The further down her hands move the closer she presses against Clarke’s bare back, her lips against Clarke’s ear as both their breathing becomes heavy and pulsing.

Lexa presses one hand against the small of Clarke’s back and Clarke gasps as her front touches the cold hard marble of the counter. Her nipples pebble, instantly hard and Clarke sucks in a breath trying not to squirm away from the counter, letting it warm under her body instead. Lexa’s hand presses her firmly down, leaving no question that she is to stay put. She scratches down Clarke’s back and Clarke moans, waiting for Lexa’s next touch.

Lexa’s fingertips hook over the edge of Clarke’s panties and she steps back quickly pulling them down before divesting herself of her button up shirt and slacks, leaving her in a camisole and underwear.

Clarke whines at the loss of contact, panting, bent forward over the counter. She turns her head, cheek pressed hard to the cold marble, watching Lexa strip and meticulously fold her slacks before placing them on the kitchen island, her shirt tossed lightly over the top. Lexa’s eyes are dark and her face flushed when she turns back to Clarke. And fuck if Clarke can’t help but want to give her whatever she wants and needs right now, as long as it involves Lexa touching her again she doesn’t care.

Lexa lets out a steadying breath as she turns around to see Clarke naked and bent over the counter, waiting for her, legs spread slightly. She takes in the the sight, her beautiful girlfriend, unquestionably giving her what she needs in this moment, a distraction from the day and a way to unwind, no dwelling on what happened and what she can’t control. 

Clarke lets out a high pitched whine as she shifts, her body missing the contact and the heat from the press of Lexa’s body. She bites her lip, meeting Lexa’s gaze, and widens her stance, the hard marble pressing against her cheek.

Lexa’s knees hit the ground between Clarke’s feet, her hands sliding over either thigh as she kisses and nips her way from the back of Clarke’s knee to inner thigh, to the glistening folds between Clarke’s legs. She brushes the tip of her nose across Clarke’s entrance and presses a long swipe of her tongue along its length. Lexa closes her eyes and swallows, loving the way Clarke tastes. She could easily stay there lapping at Clarke, lavishing her until she comes undone, but Lexa has something else in mind. She sinks her teeth gently into the delicate flesh of Clarke’s inner thigh.

Clarke gasps, half words forming in pleasure tinged with pain. She wriggles, wanting more, knowing she shouldn’t move more than she has because she doesn’t want Lexa to stop. And when it’s like this between them, movement draws out the game, Lexa teasing her until she’s ready to come from wanting.

Lexa runs one hand over the smooth curve of Clarke’s ass, relishing the feel of the soft skin pulled across muscle. She meets Clarke’s gaze and digs her fingertips in, claiming the flesh, before rubbing gentle circles over the red marks she’s left. Lexa taps Clarke’s ass lightly with her hand, raising one eyebrow in question. “Can I?...” She lets the implication hang in the air. They’ve been down this road before, done this for each other, skirting that edge between pleasure and pain.

Clarke nods and sucks in an anticipatory breath, arching her back, presenting herself.

Lexa smacks her ass. One solid hit that echoes in the kitchen. She moans and bites her forearm as she prepares for another hit, tilting her hips, arching her back, trying not to beg for Lexa to spank her again, another shock reverberating in her core, shooting through the thousands of nerve endings between her legs. 

Just enough time passes when the second smack lands that Clarke cries out in surprise. She can feel herself dripping, wet and wanting. A high pitched keening tears from her throat and she’s reaching, canting her hips, even as Lexa presses firmly into the small of her back, holding her to the counter.

Lexa bites her lip, the noises Clarke is making, the way she’s writhing, are everything she needs. Everything she wants in this moment. Her hand cupping Clarke’s ass she runs her thumb between the dripping folds, pressing inside her. She turns her wrist, fingers flicking over the pulsing bundle of nerves at the apex of Clarke’s vulva. 

Clarke is wet and ready, muscles clenching around her, trying to pull her in, eager. Lexa flattens her hand across Clarke’s back, fingers digging in slightly and slips two fingers inside Clarke, thrusting in and out slow and deliberate. Clarke moans, hands grasping against the smooth counter top. Lexa’s fingers thrusting quicker, wet flesh slapping together.

There’s a crash behind them.

Lexa stills her motions and turns to see Octavia and Raven, pressed back to front, Octavia’s water bottle on the ground. Raven’s hands already sliding over Octavia’s hips, fingers dipping under the edge of Octavia’s running shorts as she whispers against her neck.

“Fuck they’re hot,” she licks a line up Octavia’s neck not breaking eye contact with Lexa.

Lexa starts thrusting again, feeling Clarke nearing that edge, muscles tightening around her fingers. She’d forgotten about her text to Octavia. 

“I told you we should have hurried home,” Octavia smirks, tilting her head to the side, giving Raven better access. “But then again-”

Lexa rakes her nails down Clarke’s back leaving four red lines in a diagonal stripe.

“Oh fuck, Lex… I-” Clarke pants, her voice an octave higher than normal, breathy. 

“Don’t stop on our account,” Raven’s voice is low and gravelly with need.

Lexa tears her gaze away from her girlfriends as she watches Raven’s hands continue to slide over Octavia, grasping, nails dragging, still whispering in her ear.

She curls her fingers inside Clarke, finding that spot just behind her pubic bone, brushing over it again and again. Hips canting, riding Lexa’s hand as much as she can, pressed over the counter, held down as she is, Clarke comes, whimpering moans as she comes undone, knees buckling. Lexa holds her up, fingers gently stroking, feeling Clarke’s aftershocks roll through her with each movement. She slips her fingers out and Clarke gasps at every touch to her overly sensitive skin.

Lexa turns her head, bringing her fingers to her mouth, licking them clean as she meets Octavia’s gaze. Octavia’s eyes dark with desire, as she watches, trying to control her own moans as Raven’s hand slip under her shirt and under the waistband of her running shorts. Lexa feels Clarke shift under her hand, still panting, running high from her orgasm. She doesn’t want this to be finished. Not when she’s still wound this tightly.

Slipping her arm around Clarke’s waist Lexa helps her stand gently, fingers running across the red marks from the hard edge of the counter. She takes her weight, fingertips ghosting up and down Clarke’s spine, murmuring in her ear that she’s got her, making sure she’s okay. Thanking her for giving up control. Lexa wonders briefly what it would be like for the tables to be turned.

Clarke’s arms wrap around her neck, fingers running through her hair.

Octavia steps up behind Lexa, fingertips on her waist. “Somewhere more comfortable?”

Raven presses against Clarke, helping to hold the still trembling girl up.

Lexa turns her head, catching Octavia in a kiss, nodding fervently as she does. Her work stress forgotten, nothing but the three women surrounding her, filling her senses, matter. 

“Floor or bed? Raven asks with her lips on Clarke’s neck.

Clarke grinds her ass against Raven, “Don’t care, as long as you’re fucking me.”

Raven lets out a laugh and squeezes Clarke’s hips. “Patience,” she runs a hand up Clarke’s back and tangles it in her hair. 

Clarke’s jaw goes slack and she leans back into Raven just a little bit more. 

“I fully plan on doing just that.” Raven says before she nips at Clarke’s ear. She looks up to catch Lexa’s eye. “My vote is bed.”

They untangle and start making their way to the stairs. Octavia and Raven leave a trail of clothes throughout the living room, undressing as they walk. There’s no pretense, no need to take it slow in that moment. Not when they’re already in the middle of things. Not when their desire is palpable.

Lexa’s back hits the bed as Octavia kisses her and pushes her down. 

“I want to know how it ended up that you were spanking Clarke in the kitchen when I thought I’d be coming home to you wound tight and surprise you with me and Raven high on endorphins from our run.” Octavia sets a knee on either side of Lexa and crawls on top of her, but doesn’t touch her.

“Work was frustrating,” Lexa huffs out. “Clarke is hot.”

Clarke jumps onto the bed and rolls over to kiss Lexa sloppily. “Thanks, Lex.”

“See, but I was promised a sexually frustrated Lexa that I would get to tease, and instead I’ve got a very content Lexa in the process of getting fucked.” Octavia pouts and sits up on her knees as she trails a finger down Lexa’s stomach.

Lexa bites her lip. There’s a part of her that wants to ask for something she’s always said no to, at least for being on the receiving end. She wants to let Octavia take what she’s been hinting at but knows she could easily turn to Raven or Clarke for. She wants to surrender control, let Octavia lead them through tying her up and getting her off.

Octavia watches her through heavily hooded eyes and scratches gently at Lexa’s belly. “So what’s it gonna be Lexa.” She sits up and off to the side, Lexa sits up, following her as if attached by a string.

Raven scoots onto the bed and leans over Lexa. She kisses her lightly on the lips and then again on the cheek, her jaw, and her neck until she whispers in her ear. She sets her teeth against Lexa’s earlobe. “Yeah, Lexa, what will it be. You’re the one who wanted to unwind.”

Lexa glances to Clarke because it’s Clarke that usually asks for what she’s about to ask, sometimes Raven, but rarely from all of them. Octavia is their safe place in bed, the one they go to when they need something more than just sex. Her throat is rough and raw and she can barely get the words past her pounding heart. “Clarke, can we use your restraints… on me?”

Nodding Clarke leans forward and kisses Lexa gently, “Which ones do you want?”

Lexa sits up, trying not to think to hard and just say what comes to her mind. “Silks.”

“Blindfold, too?” Clarke slips off the bed and opens up a drawer.

“Yeah…” She wets her lips and sets her teeth into the bottom one. 

Octavia is staring at Lexa like she’s been offered up something precious but she’s afraid if she touches it that it will shatter and break. Lexa may have asked but now she’s far away and thinking too much. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Lexa looks up at Octavia and nods slowly. Her whole body is on fire with the idea.

“Lexa, what’s your safeword?”

Lexa hums an assent that she heard, but her mind isn’t really processing the words until Raven is in her lap and gently holding her jaw to look at her. “Safeword, babe,” Raven lets go and rests her arms on Lexa’s shoulders. “Before we get started  _ you _ need to pick one.”

“Right.” Lexa tries to take a deep breath but she can’t quite, it’s all in her chest. The thought of being tied up excites her and leaves the taste of panic in the back of her throat at the same time. She needs this though, for herself, and for them. She needs to give up control and trust them, trust that she won’t need the word she picks. “Baobab.”

She doesn’t know why she picks it, other than the only other word that comes to her mind that would be clearly out of context is spider, and that’s just a recipe for disaster.

Raven grins and dips her head down to kiss Lexa’s neck, “Whatever you want.”

Lexa feels the words stick in her throat and she just wants to let go and fall into the feeling of her girls, their mouths, their hands. Still, she wants to know if she can let go, if she can trust that release of power. With her eyes closed she burrows her face into the warm curve on Raven’s neck. 

“I need to let go. I need the three of you to catch me.”

Raven tightens her arms around Lexa and presses her lips to her hair. This is more than just blowing off steam and having fun. She traces Lexa’s spine with her fingertips and shivers as Lexa’s hands skim across her thighs. This is about finding the trust that they’ve all been working so hard to build and rebuild. As Lexa’s hand trails over the end of Raven’s amputated leg she just nuzzles further into Lexa’s lap, there isn’t the hitch in her breath or racing of her heart. With the three of them she doesn’t worry.

Clarke is warm and soft and brings a waft of lavender with her as she settles behind Lexa. Her knees brush against Raven’s legs and she wraps her arms around them both. Lexa leans her head back to nuzzle against Clarke who kisses her cheek and brushes Lexa’s hair up into a messy bun.

Running her hands down Lexa’s arms Clarke pulls Lexa’s hands behind her back and wraps one of the lengths of silk around Lexa’s wrists. She pulls it tight but not too tight. She kisses Lexa’s shoulders. “Okay?”

Lexa nods.

“Out loud,” Octavia reminds her.

Lexa flexes and tests the bonds. “Yeah, it’s okay.” 

“If anything goes numb or tingly we find another way to tie you up, understood?” Raven nips at the thin skin that stretches over Lexa’s collarbone. 

“Loud and clear.”

Raven’s hands start to trace patterns over Lexa’s skin and she dances away from each of Lexa’s attempts to kiss her, teasing and laughing as Lexa pouts. 

Clarke presses a kiss to Lexa’s spine, “Your pleasure is at our whim now. Do you want the blindfold now?”

Lexa glances around, taking in the sight of Raven, naked and in her lap, Clarke, watching her curiously, and Octavia, lounging, watching the three of them with a calculated look. Her heart speeds up at the thought of not being able to move or see. She’s already frustrated by not being able to catch Raven in a kiss or reach out to touch her. Still, she murmurs an assent and closes her eyes as she lets out a long breath.

The strip of silk is cold against her skin, and Clarke ties it almost as tightly as she did the restraints. Lexa focuses on her breathing and the feeling of Raven’s hands, just barely touching her. Unable to reach out, unable to see, everything is startlingly intense.

She hears Octavia sigh contentedly and can almost see her biting her lip as she watches Raven and Clarke start to slowly drive her crazy.

Octavia feels a bit like a kid in a candy store, she wants a bit of everything right then. She’s wanted Lexa like this for a long time but the first time she asked Lexa said no, and despite there being times when Lexa would help with restraining Clarke, and on occasion, Raven, she has never once asked for this. The temptation to take this down the road that leads to all of Octavia’s fantasies is strong, but she steadies herself and decides to play the long game. Not giving into her impulses might be the better choice.

She might find herself here again, with Lexa tied up at her whim, waiting to be given what her body is aching for until she can’t wait any longer and she begs.

“On her stomach,” Octavia grins and sits back, waiting for Clarke and Raven to help Lexa onto her stomach.

Lexa moves onto her knees and turns towards Octavia’s voice, the blindfold keeping her from actually seeing anything but the barest hints of light. “Why?”

Octavia moves forward until she’s on her knees, just in front of Lexa, not quite touching, but close enough to feel the heat from her body. She leans in, her lips brush against the material of the blindfold stretched across the top of Lexa’s ear. “No questions.”

“Or what?” Lexa tries to roll her shoulders but her arms are tied to tightly to her side. She falls in and out of comfort in the restraints. One moment relaxed, the next on the verge of panic. She knows she could stop it but she wants this too much. There’s something about being able to talk back, knowing what comes next. She’s seen Octavia in action with Raven and Clarke.

The bed shifts and she feels Octavia move, though her face still hovers near Lexa’s.

Lexa turns her head, brazen, and tries to steal a kiss. Octavia pulls back and presses her fingertips to Lexa’s sternum. “I want you on your stomach… maybe I’ll let you kiss me after.” She pushes Lexa forward and Lexa falls onto the bed, unable to catch herself.

“Clarke?” Octavia reaches out for her and draws her into a messy open mouthed kiss that’s as much her claiming Clarke as it is what she knows Clarke needs the kiss before she asks. When she pulls back Clarke’s eyes are unfocused. “Have you ever spanked Lexa?”

Clarke shakes her head no slowly. She trails a finger down Octavia’s chest, between her breasts, letting it slow as it dips closer to her sex. Octavia grabs her wrist to stop the motion.

“Stay focused. Right now, I want you to help me give Lexa what she asked for.” She kisses the back of Clarke’s hand and licks her palm. “I want you to spank Lexa for me, will you?”

Clarke tears her gaze away from Octavia and looks over Lexa, arms bound to her sides, face down on the bed, her head turned to the side. The swell of her ass is gentle and soft and beckoning. She nods.

“Good girl,” Octavia says. She takes Clarke’s chin between her index finger and thumb and pulls her in for another kiss. “Maybe next you can fuck me.” She slips her hand into Clarke’s hair and tightens her grip until she feels Clarke go nearly slack under her touch. Letting go suddenly she reaches down and slaps Clarke’s ass lightly to get her going again.

Clarke feels heavy and light all at once, her body sated and aching. Her only thoughts involving following Octavia’s orders and helping make Lexa feel good. She loves the times that sex turns to this. The security she feels, knowing that in giving up control she’s giving the others what they need, that this is about more than release, and more than trust. This is reaching down into the dark hollow parts of each other and holding them gently. This is about fulfilling each other in a way that leaves them feeling stronger when they’re done.

Out of the corner of her eye Clarke watches Octavia move to Raven.

Raven crashes into Octavia, even as her fingertips trail over Lexa. She’s found the spot on Lexa’s back just to the right of her sacrum and a little further north that turns to raw nerve endings when she’s turned on. It’s like this little cluster of nerves gets over excited about the idea of being touched. All she has to do is leave a featherlight touch and she has Lexa spasming under her touch, moaning, both of them wondering if she’ll cum from that alone.

“I want to fuck you with the strap on,” Raven growls into Octavia’s neck.

Octavia tips her head to the side to allow Raven access. “Not yet. Lexa first.” She sucks in a breath as Raven’s teeth sink into her neck and a small curse of pleasure tumbles out. “Patience,” she nudges Raven back, but keeps a hand around her waist to help her steady. “Be good and I’ll let you fuck me while Lexa and Clarke watch.”

Raven sits back on the bed and looks up at Octavia, the hint of a pout in her eyes. She reaches out, sliding her hand up Octavia’s inner thigh. Octavia catches her hand and stares her down as she places Raven’s hand just on the inside of Lexa’s knee. “Tell me if she gets wetter when Clarke spanks her.”

Lexa shuts her eyes underneath the blindfold and tries to relax into the bed, but she can feel Clarke hovering near her hips, her fingers joining Raven’s in ghosting over the bundle of nerves in the small of her back. The electric jolt it sends through her body is like an aftershock, but she hasn’t orgasmed yet. It feels though like she’s getting close and she wonders how long she’ll last.

Having fucked Clarke over the counter had turned her on endlessly, and now, with this, the slow build of it, how careful they’re being with her. Their touch is constant, letting her know where they are at all times. Their voices as soft, and even when their kisses turn to bites, they soothe again. There’s no pain that isn’t a pleasure, there’s no part of her racing heart that makes her want to call for it to stop.

A third hand, Octavia’s, lands lightly in the middle of her back and trails up her spine, just as she feels the bed shift, Raven’s hand moves up her inner thigh. The tip of one finger parts her folds, but only millimeter by millimeter. She whimpers and wriggles and feels Clarke hold her still. Octavia lays down next to her and Lexa can feel her breath on her shoulder.

Octavia sets her teeth against Lexa’s shoulder. “Clarke is going to spank you, and if you’re a good girl I might let Raven touch you. Might let her fuck you, three knuckles deep. Would you like that?”

Lexa gasps and her chest heaves. She bites her bottom lip and fights against the restraints. She can feel Raven’s hand sitting patient and still with her fingers curled around Lexa’s inner thigh.

“What was that?” Octavia bites down harder.

“Please.” Lexa moans. Her body feels like a raw nerve, every touch is exquisite torture and she wants more, as much as she can take before she topples over the ledge as her orgasm hits her.

There’s no verbal command, no warning, just a sharp sudden smack. Lexa cries out, half in shock and pain, and half in pleasure. She can feel the throbbing between her legs she arches her back, half hoping the slight movement might bring Raven’s hand in contact with her vulva. She needs to be touched.

Octavia gently kisses her shoulder where she had bit it before. “Was that okay?”

Lexa nods rapidly, not quite able to form words, she makes a sound that might have been a yes. She lets out a breathy moan as Clarke palms her ass, massaging the muscle and the stinging skin.

“Again,” Octavia growls the order even as she leans forward to kiss Lexa’s cheek.

Just as Lexa becomes aware that Raven is trailing her fingers of her free hand gently down the outside of her thigh the next smack comes. It stings and tingles and this one shoots right through her, reverberating. She can feel it in her clit and  _ fuck _ , she moans, her mouth open and pressed to the bed. It’s suddenly abundantly clear why Clarke enjoys this so much. If it does  _ this _ .

She tries to shift, arch her back so her ass is presented, ready.

This is a position Lexa never imagined that she would be in herself. Someone’s lips touch the stinging skin of her ass and she jumps. Raven giggles.

“How wet is Lexa, Raven?” Octavia whispers the question in Lexa’s ear, but it’s loud enough for the others to hear.

Just as suddenly as Clarke had spanked her Lexa feels Raven’s fingers slip between her lips and dip inside her. Fingers, plural, two of them. She hears her own groan echoed in Raven’s. 

“She’s so fucking wet, O,” Raven says reverently. “I think someone enjoys being punished.” 

Raven’s fingers curl inside her and Lexa moans. She tries to open her legs wider but she can’t, what with Clarke on one side and Raven on the other. She rocks her hips and whimpers, trying not to beg for more as Raven’s fingers slowly, torturously caress her g-spot.

“What did I say about being good, Lexa?” Octavia’s breath is hot against Lexa’s ear.

Lexa struggles to form words but she knows Octavia will wait for her, and if she doesn’t answer she might tell the others to stop touching her. “That you’d let them fuck me.”

“That’s right. Do good girls squirm?”

Lexa whimpers as she stills her hips. She had just found an angle where the comforter road up and she could feel the brush of it against her clit as her hips rocked. Raven though, thankfully, is still curling her fingers over that same spot again and again.

“Again.”

Clarke gives Lexa’s ass a squeeze and a small pat and then there’s a loss of contact and just enough of a pause that Lexa isn’t sure the spank is coming, but then it’s there and she cries out and her body shakes and she feels herself clench around Raven’s fingers, not quite orgasming but so close to.

“Enough.”

Raven pulls out her fingers just as suddenly as she had slipped them in and Lexa clenches her thighs tight together needing some kind of pressure. Her head is fuzzy and she can barely feel beyond the throbbing ache between her legs. She finds herself whispering  _ please _ over and over.

“Please what?” Octavia asks, her fingers trailing down Lexa’s spine until she touches that nervey spot and Lexa jumps under her touch and whimpers. 

“Kiss me, fuck me, let me come.” She’s riding too close for too long and she wants to feel release.

For a moment no one touches her and no one says anything and Lexa feels like it’s the longest moment she’s felt in a long time. Her skin is on fire with desire. Her frustration with not being able to reach out and touch her girls is only rivaled by the frustration of not being touched. But just before she breaks she feels three sets of hands on her, bodies shifting around her, untying the silk restraints.

Her shoulders release and there’s a slight ache in them. She doesn’t quite fully form a thought about if the restraints had been too tight when she feels gentle touches turn intense, nails scratching down her back, teeth leaving bite marks, she’s almost certain there will be a trail of hickeys.

She wriggles and tries to get her hands underneath herself so she can turn over.

“Nuh-uh, you only move when I say you can move.” Octavia holds Lexa against the bed. Lexa obliges and sinks back in. She doesn’t move her arms, though she can feel how sore they are from being behind her. “Onto your knees.”

Clarke reaches out and helps Lexa sit back on her knees. She knows this is the part that hurts the most sometimes when they don’t mean it to, the switching positions, but Octavia always makes it feel like it’s part of it. Clarke kisses Lexa’s shoulder, then her neck, she glances to Octavia who nods, and Clarke tries to remember how Octavia distracts her and repositions her arms quickly.

She catches Lexa up in a kiss and she’s certain she’s never felt Lexa so needy and pliant before. There’s a headiness to having Lexa submit to her, but it’s foreign to Clarke, so used to being on the receiving end of these power games.

Slipping her hands to Lexa’s waist she coaxes her off her knees and to straighten her legs once more. Clarke bites down on Lexa’s bottom lip as she slips her hands up her sides and straightens Lexa’s arms above her head.

Lexa cries out but she’s writhing beneath Clarke.

Someone else parts her legs. She feels silk slip around an ankle, while Clarke ties her wrists and loops them through the d-rings they mounted into the frame. Just as quickly as she had been untied, she’s tied up again, this time flat on her back with her limbs pulled in four directions.

She sucks down a breath and tries to calm her beating heart. Now that she’s on her back she can feel how much her ass is aching from Clarke hitting her. It’s a delicious sort of ache though. Lexa tests her restraints and finds that she can only move minimally. She feels exposed and vulnerable like this, moreso than she did with her hands behind her back on her stomach. There had been a tightness and a warmth to being tied to herself. Without Clarke hovering over her the world around her feels too vast. She pulls at her restraints again and she feels an edge of panic hit her.

Before it builds Raven is whispering in her ear, pressed to her side, one hand cupping her face. Her voice is warm and soft and Lexa feels tears prick at her eyes.

“We’re right here, Lexa. We’ve got you, you’re safe. Remember if you want this to stop you know what to say, we can stop. We love you, and if you aren’t enjoying this as much as us, then we don’t do this.” Raven nuzzles the side of Lexa’s face with her nose. Sometimes there’s a fine line between enjoyment and too much and they’re riding that right now. She whispers the next so quietly that only Lexa can make out the words, “You’re strong and brave and I love you so much.”

Lexa’s next breath is steadier.

Octavia squeezes Lexa’s thighs, letting her know she’s settled in between her legs. Clarke scratches lightly at her stomach.

“Do you still want me to fuck you, Lexa?” Octavia asks, as if Lexa hadn’t just nearly tapped out. With Clarke she would know unquestioningly if she should jump back into her plan, but she’s worried Lexa won’t use her safeword, too stubborn to admit that something is too much, so she’s careful, asking more questions than she normally would. Making sure Lexa knows she can say no.

Lexa arches up, “Please.” If they’re touching her, if they’re getting back to sex she can breathe easier, relax back into things. With Clarke and Raven firmly on either side she feels less vulnerable; it’s safer.

Octavia doesn’t hesitate, her hands on Lexa’s hips she slides down so her face is in Lexa’s sex. She presses a heavy kiss above Lexa’s clit and digs her nails into Lexa’s hips as Lexa arches up into her mouth. She giggles and slides her tongue between Lexa’s folds.

Lexa can’t catch her breath. Raven and Clarke are taking turns kissing her neck and breasts, their nails scratching along her stomach and sides. Sometimes one of them will kiss her on the mouth, but she can barely pull it together to kiss them back. She’s straining against the restraints, wanting to touch them wanting to draw Octavia in closer, because Octavia isn’t holding back. She’s on a mission chasing Lexa’s orgasm and Lexa isn’t sure there’s going to be much of a chase.

It’s building fast, having already been so close, and her nerves are overwhelmed with the three of them focused only on her. She can feel it twisting, like a thread pulling taut and threatening to snap. And Octavia is scratching down her sides hard enough to leave marks, and Raven is biting down on her breast, and Clarke is sucking on her neck and Lexa body arches off the bed as the orgasm hits her hard.

She falls back down to the bed, body twitching and pulling against the restraints. Even behind the blindfold she sees stars bursting and she presses into Octavia’s face, riding out the aftershocks on her tongue. As she floats away she feels her body heavy against the bed.

Lexa is only vaguely aware as she feels her girls kiss along her limbs and untie her, gently moving her limbs after they had been stretched out for so long, through so much tension. She smiles and bites her lip and laughs to herself because she feels like she’s flying still, and she knows that she’s safe, that they have her.

Clarke grabs a blanket from the pile on the floor and slips back into bed next to Lexa. She pulls her in for a soft kiss, knowing some of what Lexa is feeling right then. The safety and love on top of the post-orgasm bliss. She curls into her side and gently unties Lexa’s blindfold.

Raven slips the blindfold off and turns Lexa’s head to the other side for a kiss. She’s never seen Lexa relinquish that much control and it feels like this is something they all needed, not just Lexa. It was something maybe that they didn’t know how to ask for. So she kisses Lexa softly and asks if Lexa is okay.

Lexa nods and smiles and slowly opens her eyes. She’s surprised by the wonder and awe on Raven’s face.

Octavia slides up on top of Lexa and lays down gently, giving her weight to Lexa. She wraps around her as much as she can. “Thank you,” she whispers as she presses a soft kiss to Lexa’s collarbone.

“I think I’m the one who should be thanking you,” Lexa laughs, her voice is rough.

Octavia presses a kiss above Lexa’s heart. “That you trust me that much means a lot. That you trust us.”

Lexa nods and kisses Octavia’s hair.

As they wrap around each other, gently cuddling Lexa, their fingers and lips trailing over each red mark on her skin they whisper to each other softly how in love they are. They are each other’s safety. At the end of the day they make it work, and they give each other everything they can. With their eyes closed and a blanket tossed lightly over them they know they could sleep now sated and happy, but there’s an edge of persistence in their touches and they know they’re only getting started tonight.

##  _______________________________________

 

**Two months later on a cold November day...**

The air has a bite to it that means there will be ice on everything come morning. It nips at Octavia’s nose and cheeks, and has her shoving her hands deeper into her pockets to keep her fingers from freezing. She sniffles and hunkers down into her jacket as if it will protect her from the rain. She picks up her pace knowing she’s almost to the bus stop that will take her home and she can’t get there quick enough.

It’s days like today that she regrets only owning a motorcycle– there’s no way she’s riding in rain like this and if Lincoln ever has plans after work, like he does today, she’s stuck riding the bus home– unless Lexa gets off work early or on time even, which is not the case today as far as she’s been able to tell. Mostly Octavia just feels like grumbling and complaining and blaming the fact that the rain is getting to her on something other than herself, she’s half soaked through and the cold seems almost worse now that the sun has set.

She’s about to turn the corner to the street with her bus stop when she hears it, a high pitched mewling that can only mean one thing: nearby there is a kitten in distress. Octavia’s head snaps up and she squints down the alley she just passed by that’s wedged between a tattoo parlour a taco shop. For a minute there’s nothing but the rain and traffic, but then the kitten sounds off again.

It’s definitely in the alleyway. 

Octavia fumbles in her pocket with numb fingers for her phone and turns on the flashlight app. She shines the light around the alley and looks for the the kitten. There isn’t much to see, just a few dumpsters and a few stray pieces of trash. She squats down and shines her light underneath the dumpsters. There’s a little dark grey-black blob underneath the first dumpster. It turns to her when the light shines on it, opening it’s little mouth in a red and angry scream. Whether it’s at her or the rain she isn’t sure. The poor thing can’t be more than two months old.

The alley is otherwise empty as Octavia slips into it. No other cats, no signs of a nest. The kitten is perched on top of a damp box that’s collapsed in the rain. Octavia’s heart constricts and she walks slowly toward the dumpster. She doesn’t want to scare the kitten off but she knows she has to get it out of this storm.

This isn’t the first time she’s tried to rescue a kitten, and she knows her girlfriends are going to have something to say about it. In all honesty though, she just can’t stand to leave the little one alone in the alley. It’s cold and wet and looks underfed.

She crouches down again and scoots forward the last few steps. The kitten yowls at her again, it’s wet fur standing up in tufts like it’s trying to raise its hackles. 

“Come on, I’m just trying to help little dude.” Octavia coos as she reaches out. The kitten cowers down against the soggy cardboard but doesn’t run. Not hesitating any longer Octavia picks it up. The kitten can’t be much more than a pound, but its lungs are in good working order and its cries are shrill.

“Sssshhhh, I got you,” Octavia whispers as she unzips her jacket and sticks the kitten inside trying to figure out best how to secure the wet wriggly ball of upset. She ends with it tucked in her shirt, nestled between her boobs, because anywhere else would have meant the kitten falling out, and there she can at least pretend to play with her scarf and hold it in place.

Now if it will only stop mewling she’ll be able to get it home. It’s not exactly allowed to have pets on the bus without carriers unless they’re service animals and she doesn’t have a bag or crate for the little one in her shirt.

Its claws are like soft knives against her skin and it’s cold and damp and this is going to be a mess, but she can’t help herself.

She bounces on her heels as she waits for the bus and whispers to the kitten. Its cries have abated to only every so often and she wonders if she’ll make it the ten minute ride to her stop. The bus driver pulls up and barely gives her a second glance beyond looking at her bus pass as she comes on board dripping from head to toe. Half the bus looks like they got caught in the same storm. The air is humid and damp and for once she’s thankful someone is listening to their music too loudly. She settles in next to the back door, opting to stay standing and wraps one hand securely around the kitten underneath her scarf.

The only person that seems to notice she isn’t the only one under her jacket is a little boy with a gap tooth grin. She holds her fingers to her lips and winks hoping he’ll keep their secret.

When the bus stops near her street she practically bolts off and rushes the last few blocks home. By the time she’s pushes open the front door she’s sweaty and rain drenched she’s fairly certain the kitten has shredded the skin above her sternum.

Normally she calls out that she’s home when she steps inside, but she’s preoccupied with the wriggling mass in her shirt and trying not to drip water  _ everywhere _ , that she forgets. Instead she struggles to remove her scarf and unzip her jacket so she can rescue the feisty furball. 

“Ow, you little shit,” Octavia mutters to herself. The kitten definitely just tried to bite her.

“Octavia?” Lexa pauses in front of Octavia taking in the sight of her girlfriend, storm drenched and clutching something to her chest.  _ Talking _ to something she’s clutching to her chest. She stops halfway between the couch and the front door on her way from the kitchen, stirring her tea while she waits for Octavia to answer.

“Lexa,” Octavia looks up wide eyed and a little panicked. “Hi.”

“What do you have in your shirt?”

“Boobs, abs…” Octavia mutters and struggles to keep the kitten still.

“Let me rephrase, what is in your shirt that is normally not in your shirt?” She has a fairly good idea from the meow she just heard.

“Did I just hear a cat?” Clarke calls as she leans backwards over the couch to look toward the front door. “Jesus, O, you’re soaked.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “It’s a kitten technically…” she pulls the bedraggled kitten out of her jacket and holds it up.

“Where did you find it?” Lexa takes half a step forward as Octavia does the same and  pushes her back toward the door so she continues to drip on the floor in the same spot and it doesn’t get on any of the throw rugs.

“Under a dumpster downtown.” Octavia chews on her lip. “Can we keep it?”

Lexa scrunches her nose. This isn’t the first time Octavia has tried to rescue a stray, but it is the first time she’s gotten as far as bringing it back into the house. It’s not that Lexa has any problem with cats, it’s just that she’s never met one that liked  _ her _ and therefore she isn’t affectionate toward them, and the wild ones tend to be the worst offenders.

“What happened to you?” Raven interrupts with a laugh as she comes out of the exercise room. 

“Ha, funny.” Octavia sticks her tongue out briefly at Raven and turns back to Lexa and juts out her bottom lip. “Please?”

“Come on, Lex,” Clarke hops up and makes her way around to Lexa. She wraps her arms around Lexa and plants a kiss on her neck. “Octavia has been asking for a kitten for a while now.”

“And really, how can you say no to that much bedraggled, storm-ridden sad?” Raven wraps herself around Lexa and nuzzles into the other side of her neck. “Besides, look at its fur, it’s gonna be a little floof.”

Lexa sighs heavily and glances down at her tea, knowing she’s not going to get to drink it because she has a soaking wet girlfriend and kitten to deal with. She’d been looking forward to an easy night. “Fine. But on one condition–”

Octavia lets out a yelp of joy and jumps. The kitten mews frantically and she clutches it to her chest, murmuring apologies to it softly.

“– before either of you get any further into this house, the kitten goes to the vet.” Lexa looks pointedly at Octavia. “Now.”

“But, I’m cold and wet, too.” Octavia glances at the door, knowing it’s still storming outside. The tone in Lexa’s voice tells her there isn’t room for debate. She cuddles the kitten to her chest once more.

“Yeah, and since the kitten has been in your shirt you both probably have fleas now, so vet, and petstore. If we’re going to have a cat it is not bringing fleas into this house.” Lexa waves Octavia at the door and sets her tea on the little table near it. She starts to reach for her shoes but a wet cold hand cups her face and pulls her in for a kiss.

“Thank you,” Octavia grins into the kiss. “I know you aren’t a fan of cats.”

Lexa pulls back and then leans forward and pecks Octavia on the lips once more. “Yeah, but you are, and if keeping this little one makes you happy, we can have  _ one _ .” It’s a slippery slope she knows, but she doesn’t want to end up rescuing every kitten in downtown Portland.

“Aw come on, there’s always room for another pussy in this house.” Raven bites back a shit eating grin as she reaches out to scratch the kitten’s head.

Clarke chokes back a laugh and Octavia doesn’t even try. Lexa groans.

“I’m not even going to acknowledge that.” Lexa says as she laces up her boots.

“You are though in saying just that,” Raven nudges Lexa in the shoulder and Lexa grunts a response. “Okay, but what are we going to call it?” Raven asks. The kitten screams in response, a loud resounding mew.

Clarke reaches out and scratches under its chin before plucking it out of Octavia’s grasp. It’s little belly is pinkish where the fur has been rubbed off giving it a distinctive grey and pink coloring. “You look like a Mewtwo.”

_ Mew! _

“I think the kitten just named itself.” Raven takes the dripping kitten from Clarke and wraps it in the little towel she had been wiping down with after her workout.

“We can’t have a cat named Mew,” Lexa says as she affixes her scarf in place.

_ Mew! _

Three sets of eyes turn her way and Lexa sighs heavily. Shaking her head she gives up any pretense that this isn’t happening; she holds up her hands in surrender. “Alright.”

Octavia takes the bundled kitten back, “You heard her Mew Blake-Griffin-Reyes-Woods. You’ve got a name and a family now.”

Lexa runs a hand over her face. She’s not even going to try to object to the last name.

##  _______________________________________

 

Five hours later they’re finally all home and settled and fed and dry.

The vet gave Mew a flea bath and a few shots and checked her over for worms and anything else she might have picked up on the street. Mew, they learned, is in fact, another girl in the Blake-Griffin-Reyes-Woods family. And aside from being underfed, she’s pretty healthy. The missing fur was only due to malnutrition and sleeping on the cold asphalt.

After they had been dismissed from the vet with a series of follow up appointments the girls had hit up the pet store and bought everything a kitten could possibly need, and then a few more things. Takeout had been picked up on the way home and by the time they were done with that it was past ten at night.

Clarke and Octavia are in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner and Raven is upstairs showering, which means Lexa is on kitten duty.

Lexa lays back on the couch wishing she were in bed but they haven’t decided where they want to put Mew for the night, if they want to bring her upstairs or corral her in one of the rooms with hardwood floors where it doesn’t matter quite so much if she hasn’t figured out the litter box yet.

Mew is on the floor, hiding underneath the TV table. She and Lexa stare each other down as if they’re both not quite sure about any of this. Lexa closes her eyes and lets her hand drape over the edge of the couch. It won’t be long until Octavia is back out with some more cat food trying to coax Mew out of hiding and she won’t have to worry about what the fluff ball is doing.

Now that she’s dry, Mew is incredibly fluffy, all dark grey fur with one white paw and green eyes. Once she gets all her fur back she’ll probably be full on adorable, not that Lexa wants to admit that. There’s going to be cat fur on everything now.

Lexa feels a damp nose butt against her hand. She cracks one eye open and looks over the edge of the couch. Mew is standing there staring at her, and screams out a mew. The sound the kitten makes is high pitched and slightly pitiful. She wiggles her butt like she’s going to try to jump but thinks better of it before she does.

“So you want up, huh?” Lexa whispers softly.

_ Mew! _

“You better not bite me,” she grumbles.

Going against her better instincts Lexa scoops up Mew and sets her on the couch before tucking her toes underneath the fleece blanket and closing her eyes once more. She doesn’t expect Mew to climb on top of her and settle on her chest just above the edge of her camisole, but Mew does.

Fur tickles Lexa’s nose and she crinkles it, trying to keep from sneezing and scaring the bejeezus out of the kitten. She doesn’t need to be scratched up like Octavia is.

Still, there’s something sweet about the soft ball of fluff curled up on her like a cloud alighting on her skin. Mew vibrates slightly, attempting to purr. Lexa laughs to herself and Mew protests. She pats the kitten on the top of her head.

It isn’t long before Lexa feels the pull of sleep and lets the world around her fade until the sounds of her girls are only so much background noise and all she feels is a warmth wrapping around her in her half asleep state. 

Life isn’t how she imagined it would be. It isn’t how any of them thought it would go.

The four of them, and now a kitten. It isn’t always easy but they always make it work in the end.

Lexa hears whispering but she can’t quite make it out at first.

Clarke leans into Raven and nuzzles into her neck as they watch Octavia crosses the room slowly to the couch. “I new she would cave.”

“Thought it would take longer,” Raven murmurs. She wraps her arms around Clarke and leans against her. She’s warm and heavy from the shower and she wants to go to bed, but she also doesn’t want to leave this moment. In that moment everything feels simple and right.

They’re together and they’re happy and Octavia has been bouncing off the walls excited for the past several hours, ever since Lexa had ushered them all out the door and she had clamored into the car, still soaking wet, with an equally damp kitten.

Octavia moves slowly and quietly not wanting to disturb either Lexa or Mew. At first she kneels on the couch, and when she sees Lexa stir she starts to move to lay down on top of her, with her. She grins as she watches Lexa try not to smile and settles in. Life doesn’t get much better than a kitten of her own and one of her girls.

Lexa is warm and soft beneath her and reaches out to touch her as she settles in with her head on Lexa’s stomach. 

“Looks like you made a friend,” Octavia whispers. She kisses Lexa’s stomach and reaches out to pet Mew.

“Sssshhh,” Lexa quiets her and lets the smile form. She runs her fingers through Octavia’s hair. “I just want to lay here with you both for a little while.”

##  _______________________________________

 

**Nearly two and a half years later… it’s January**

 

Somewhere along the way they fell into a pattern. Dinner every other week, alternating kitchens, a rotation of cooks. This week it’s the Blake-Griffin-Reyes-Woods house and Lexa and Lincoln are in charge of dinner, which means that Lexa, Lincoln, and Niylah are at the grocery store, Raven and Octavia are out on a run and Clarke and Anya are lounging around the house.

It’s simple and domestic. They’ve become a strange sort of family brought together by choice and love and everything that takes hard work to maintain. Still, they do.

Clarke looks up from her sketchbook to find that Anya has disappeared. A second looks around shows Clarke a flash of movement in the kitchen. Stretching, and removing a protesting Mew from her lap, Clarke makes her way to her feet. Dinner is still hours off but she’s thirsty, and it keeps the hunger at bay. Her stomach rumbles as if on cue as she stumbles into the kitchen, her left foot full of pins and needles from sitting on it too long. 

Mew, true to her name runs between Clarke’s feet as she makes her way to the kitchen, hoping for a snack just as much as the rest of them are.

Anya is bent over searching the refrigerator for something, presumably something to eat. She stretches her back out, and grumbles to herself.

“Anya?” Clarke asks as she fetches herself a glass for water.

“What.” Anya’s voice is snappish and she sighs heavily as soon as the sound slips past her lips. “I’m just hungry,” she amends.

“That’s the whole point of these dinners, we cook too much food and then eat all of it, so we’ve learned to not eat beforehand.” Clarke laughs. “Otherwise we’d have to start turning these dinners into sleepovers.” 

“I’m not eating for just myself anymore.” Anya mutters.

“Which would then mean breakfast– wait,  _ what?! _ ” Clarke crosses the kitchen and stands next to Anya who’s gone still with her head in the refrigerator.

Anya stands up, closes the refrigerator, and fixes Clarke with a stare that dares Clarke to ask again.

Clarke raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms, she meets Anya’s gaze, daring her to deny what she just said. They’ve come a long way from Clarke being half scared out of her mind when Anya so much as looked at her. Five years of ups and downs, heartbreak and joy, they’ve become friends, sisters-in-law, without the law. They understand each other.

“Listen, I’m supposed to tell Lexa first… I  _ meant  _ to tell Lexa first.” Anya takes a step toward Clarke and then stops she folds her arms across her stomach. The motion pulls her oversized shirt in close to her body, revealing just the slightest of bumps that Clarke hadn’t noticed before. She couldn’t be far along at all.

“So you  _ are _ …” Clarke lights up, but doesn’t know how to react. This is Anya.  _ Pregnant _ , Anya, who hasn’t told Lexa yet, which means that Clarke definitely isn’t supposed to know.

Anya holds up a finger and points at Clarke. “Do not finish that thought.”

“How far along?” She asks. It’s out there now, she can’t help but ask. It’s something that would have come up before too long. If it were on Anya’s mind enough that she blurted it out accidentally Clarke is willing to bet that they were planning to announce tonight.

“Almost three months.”

“How did you keep this from Lexa for three months?” Clarke yelps. “And over Christmas, we were drinking,  _ you _ were drinking.” She spins in a small circle and Anya grabs her shoulders to stop her.

Anya laughs, and it’s full and throaty. “Niylah poured all my drinks. She knew. I haven’t had a single alcoholic drink since we figured it out back in November. So don’t worry mini-doc-Griffin.”

“You had to sit through the banquet for Octavia’s promotion sober,” the thought hits Clarke as hard as the idea of Anya being pregnant. She leans against the counter with a small thud, misjudging the distance between her and it. While the subject of the banquet had been wonderful, and celebrating each other’s accomplishments was always great, they had been stuck at a table with a very stuffy couple that Octavia needed them to leave on good impression on. “Shit, you’re pregnant.”

“Yeah, Clarke, I am.” Anya takes Clarke’s water glass and fills it, drinks half of it, fills the rest, and hands it back to Clarke before leaning against the counter next to her.

Clarke takes the water glass and looks to Anya, waiting for an indication of how things are going. “Congrats… right, we’re on congrats with this?”

“Yes, Clarke, we are.” Anya’s smile is slight, shy almost, she leans against Clarke. “We are.”

“Okay, good.” Clarke whispers and leans into Anya. 

They settle in together in silence. There’s a heaviness to this that changes their lives. Kids are a one way road, good or bad, there’s no turning back. Even though it’s Anya and Lincoln and Niylah that will have the kid, there’s no doubt that it will change all their lives. The seven of them, plus parents and siblings, are family.

“You did good with Lexa, you’re going to be a great mom,” Clarke says softly.

For a moment she thinks Anya might balk at the statement, but Anya only leans her head against Clarke’s and whispers  _ thank you _ .

Without much preamble the front door opens wide and hits the wall as Octavia and Raven tumble into the house, laughing and talking loudly. Anya and Clarke jolt apart. It’s not that there’s anything to hide, except that there is: Clarke isn’t supposed to know about the pregnancy, not until Lexa does. Anya settles into getting her own glass of water and Clarke wanders back into the living room.

“Good run?” Clarke asks as she takes a sip of water.

“It’s cold as balls outside.” Octavia groans as she pulls off her gloves and coat. She leans down to pet Mew who has run to the front door to greet them.

“Balls aren’t really that cold,” Raven quips.

Octavia rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue. “Not like you get to handle many balls anymore for reference.”

“Pretty sure they haven’t changed all that much,” Raven laughs as she leans in and kisses Octavia softly.

They leave their winter clothes in a pile by the door.

Anya curls back up on the couch and pulls a pillow into her lap.

Raven crosses over to Clarke and steals a kiss and half of her glass of water. Clarke sighs heavily, finishes her water and signals Raven to refill the glass.

“Is Izzy coming tonight?” Octavia flops down on the couch taking up every space that Anya isn’t on.

Izzy, Lincoln’s younger sibling. They’re three years younger than Octavia, and spent most of undergrad and grad school abroad. Their plane touched down a few months after the drama of the art show and they’ve found a regular place in with everyone. A bit of a firecracker, they fit in well with all the sarcasm and quips.

Anya wrinkles her nose as she looks down at her. “Aren’t you gonna shower?”

“Aren’t you gonna answer my question?”

Anya rolls her eyes and nudges at Octavia. “Izzy is in Seattle interviewing someone for their next project. They’ll be back next week sometime.”

Octavia pouts, “Why didn’t they say we could have moved the dinner.”

“You just want someone to play Halo with so you can get out of doing the dishes.” Raven reaches down to help Octavia back to her feet. 

“It’s not my fault Lincoln’s sib is the only one that’s any match for me. They need to stop going places and doing cool things and hang out.” Octavia fake pouts but lets Raven lead her across the living room and toward the upstairs bathroom. “Tell Izzy I miss them!” Octavia calls over her shoulder.

“I am not a message service, Octavia!” Anya yells after her. “You text them more than I do!”

The only response is a peel of laughter that echoes throughout the house.

Clarke has just settled back into her sketching when the front door opens again and Lexa, Lincoln, and Niylah press into the house, shivering and cursing at the cold. They call hellos over their shoulders as they make their way straight to the kitchen.

“There are more bags in the car if you want to help,” Niylah offers over her shoulder.

“How much food did you buy?” Clarke asks as she gets up to pull on her shoes.

“All of it,” Lincoln laughs. “Someone couldn’t decide what they wanted to make for dessert.”

“I decided I’m making multiple desserts.” Lexa catches Clarke up in a hug and kisses her on the lips. “I wanted to make that strawberry cake you love, but also I wanted chocolate chip cookies, and Niylah kept talking about fudge.”

Just as Lexa starts to head out the door Anya catches her elbow. “I need to borrow my sister.”

“But dinner?” Lexa frowns in confusion as she glances out to the car that still needs to be unpacked and toward the kitchen where they need to start cooking if they want to eat before it gets too late. 

“Woods sisters emergency meeting,” Anya raises an eyebrow that dares Lexa to question her.

It’s been years since Anya has declared a Woods sisters emergency meeting. It used to be code for let’s talk this over out of earshot from adults, a chance for them to get on the same page before adults tried to blindside them with some decision about their lives. Now that they’re adults she can’t imagine what it might mean.

“Okay.” Lexa lets Anya pull her up the stairs and down the hallway to the spare bedroom. They stop in the middle of the room halfway to the window seat. Anya looks flustered and nervous, and a lot of emotions that Lexa would not normally prescribe to her sister. “Anya?”

Anya turns on the spot, not yet looking at Lexa. She looks out the window and then turns quickly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Her voice falters and the words die on her tongue before she can finish the thought. “I just, I wasn’t ready because what if…”

“Anya.” Lexa grabs her sister by the shoulders and stops the slow reeling back and forth.

“Let me get this out.” Anya grabs Lexa’s hands on her shoulders but she doesn’t take them away, she just holds on.

Lexa keeps her mouth shut even though all she wants to do is ask again what it is. It hits her then that the growing suspicion she’s had might just be true. Recently there’s been a simmering happiness to Anya that she hasn’t seen in a long time. That last time she saw she saw it dashed away just as quickly.

It’s in the way Anya is carrying herself as well. There’s something careful in it. 

Anya let’s out a deep breath and whispers the truth, “I’m pregnant.” 

“I know,” Lexa answers with equal softness. She smiles and cups her hands around Anya’s face. It was clear, she just didn’t want to be right in case the worst happened. The worst has a way of happening to them. 

“How?” 

Lexa takes Anya’s hand and squeezes it. “Because I’ve…” Lexa almost doesn’t say it because they both try to forget about that part of their life. Anya doesn’t talk about it. Sometimes it’s easier to forget pain than live in it every day. Still, it’s always there, reminding them of what they’ve lost. “I’ve seen you pregnant before, it’s not like I’d forget.”

Anya wraps her arms around herself and covers her mouth with her hand as if she’s trying to keep her emotions in and failing terribly at it. Her eyes are glossy and she nods a few times, suddenly unable to look at Lexa.

Lexa had been eleven and Anya had been seventeen, terrified, but unsure what she wanted to do. The Woods family had money and the kid would have a chance, a better one than either of them had had, despite a teen mom. Lexa had watched Anya indecisive but willing to be an adult, almost excited at the possibility, she had watched her screw up the courage to tell their adoptive parents only to miscarry before she could go through with it.

Lexa had slept in Anya’s bed for months, and the boy that didn’t even know stopped coming around. Lexa had seen that trepidation and glow at the possibility of something good in Anya’s eyes, the careful way she held herself, and she had watched everything crash down and shatter. There was nothing they could do, so Lexa just stayed with her.

“I know what that light is.” Lexa takes one of Anya’s hands and swings it back and forth. “And I know my sister doesn’t suddenly have a penchant for leggings and oversized shirts.” She winks.

“Okay, maybe it’s been obvious,” Anya looks apologetic.

“Only to me.” Lexa wraps one arm around Anya’s shoulders and pulls her in close so the sides of their foreheads rest together. She lays a hand over Anya’s barely there belly. “How far along are you?”

“Almost three months. I’m due in late July.” She pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. I just, I was afraid I would miscarry again, and it’s not like we were expecting to get pregnant.”

“Niylah and Lincoln?”

“This wasn’t the plan but they’re pretty over the moon.” Anya leans into Lexa, her voice barely more than a whisper and the tears in her eyes are starting to fall down. “Literally, I think they’re more excited about the little parasite that’s been making me throw up my lunch every day than I am.” Her laugh is watery but it’s happy.

Lexa kneels down and presses her lips to Anya’s stomach. “Stay in there, kid, until it’s time, okay? I want to meet you.” She looks up at Anya, “So you’re gonna be a proper mom now, huh?”

Anya pulls Lexa back up to her feet and wraps around her as tightly as she can. Lexa can barely breathe for how tight Anya holds onto her. She closes her eyes and lets Anya rock them. For too long it was them, the Woods sisters against the world. Though they weren’t the Woods sisters in name for so long when it was put on them it fit, and they never let it go.

They were everything to each other, sister, mom, best friend, child. Though none of those titles are quite right, each of them carrying the baggage of a traditional modern family, whatever that meant. They didn’t belong to a mom and a dad and two point five kids with a white picket fence. They were family, and home.

They were home.

Lexa tries to soothe Anya, she can feel her shaking and trying not to cry. They were always Anya and Lexa, and now they have so many people in their life sometimes it gets lost, but their family is big and strange and getting bigger. 

The tighter Anya clings the more desperate it feels, and she can feel Anya start to cry. Lexa kisses Anya’s hair and wishes that she could comfort Anya the way Anya has always been there to comfort her. They have a home and a family and it’s almost as overwhelming as it is wonderful.

Anya can barely choke out the words, “I’m sorry I wasn’t ever a mom.”

Lexa tightens her grip around Anya and can’t keep herself from crying because Anya was more than a mom would ever be. She was that and more, and maybe she hadn’t been the best mother, but she’d never given up no matter what. “You’re barely six years older than me.” 

Anya sobs harder at that and they cling to each other.

“You did good, okay? You did really good.”

There’s hope there somewhere in all the tears, hope that this is real and lasting.

Anya pulls back, wiping tears from her eyes and carefully swiping up any mascara that’s started to run. “So if it’s a little girl, another Woods Sister or do we have a Woods child on our hands? How does this little one fit in?”

“Woods child? You make it sound like we’re going to have a brood of them.” Lexa laughs and coughs and sniffles. The thought strikes her deep. It’s not that she and Clarke and Octavia and Raven have made a decision on the kids front… they just haven’t agreed to any sort of plan or even if there needs to be a plan.

“If you four ever decide you want kids we might.”

“Just because we have more wombs than you three doesn’t mean we would have more kids.”

“This can’t be the only one of the next generation.” Anya runs a hand gently over her stomach.

“Maybe Izzy wants kids– wait does Izzy know you’re pregnant?” Lexa looks expectantly to Anya, Lincoln’s younger sibling is going to be ecstatic. They’re the only one that rivals Octavia for enthusiastic energy.

Anya shakes her head and grins, clearly having the same vision of Izzy jumping up and down excitedly.

Lexa sniffles trying to get a hold on the rollercoaster of emotions. “Does anyone aside from me and Lincoln and Niylah?”

“Clarke.” Anya scrunches up her face in an apology. “I accidentally told her while rummaging through your fridge while you were shopping. In my defense if I don’t eat every two hours now my brain goes off.”

Lexa frowns but holds Anya closer. They can’t always be the first to know about everything in each other’s life. As excited and happy that she is she wishes she had known for certain before. After everything they’ve been through it feels like they need time for just them to know this. “I love you, sis.” Lexa whispers.

Anya sucks in a breath and tries to calm the tears that have started up again. “Love you too, Lex.”

They settle into each other, hugging tightly to each other and trying to let go of the past.

There’s a soft knock on the open door and someone clears their throat.

Lexa looks up to see a freshly washed Raven and Octavia curled into the doorway.

“We heard crying,” Raven whispers softly as she steps into the spare room.

“And sniffling,” Octavia adds as she follows Raven in.

“Is everything okay?” Raven glances from Lexa to Anya as they slowly disengage from the hug. Their eyes are red and their faces streaked with tears. They had gotten out of the shower and caught the sounds of crying while they dressed. Raven can count on one hand the number of times she’s seen Anya cry. Raven keeps moving slowly towards Anya.

Anya reaches out her hand and takes Raven’s. It’s reassuring which only makes the worry beating in Raven’s chest fly faster.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Anya starts. She pauses and blinks back tears. “It’s good actually. I’m just a bit of an emotional mess because I’m… uh… I’m pregnant.”

“I’M GONNA BE AN AUNTIE?” Octavia rushes across the room and flings her arms around Anya. 

Octavia presses her face into Anya’s neck and squeezes her tightly. Her only other chance at nieces and nephews really was Bellamy and he and Gina still hadn’t said anything about kids. She laughs when Anya reminds her to be careful because of the whole pregnant thing. 

“You’re just about the toughest person I know.” Octavia grins as she pulls out of the hug just enough to look Anya in the eyes. “Can’t imagine a safer place for the little one.”

“Yeah.” Anya’s smile falters but only for a second.

Raven tugs at Octavia’s shirt and switches places with her to hug Anya. She whispers congratulations against Anya’s neck and holds her as tightly as she dares. When she pulls back there are tears in both their eyes. “So, how old does the kid have to be before I tell them you used to flirt with their  _ Tia _ before any of us started dating?”

Anya shoves Raven in the shoulder and laughs. “You are telling my kid no such stories.”

“So nix the story where you stripped to make me feel better?” Raven waggles her eyebrows and bites her lips to keep from laughing.

“WHAT?” Lexa and Octavia blurt out in unison.

Raven looks down and away and Anya shakes her head. She never really told them about the night Anya took her home for the first time after Wick had been arrested. The way Anya had stayed to protect her, checked the house even though they both knew it should be safe. It’s not like they really talked about Anya staying the night that night, even if all they did was hold hands in bed.

“I hate you,” Anya mutters.

Lexa has gone white, and her brain is blank because it’s stopped processing. “You’ve seen my sister naked?”

There’s some things that she knows have never come up, like the way Anya and Raven skirted around each other… just maybe not as much as she once thought.

“Not completely naked–” Anya jumps in but Lexa holds up a finger to silence her; it’s in the past and she doesn’t need the details. 

“She still had panties on. Though I’m not certain she would have stopped me from following her into the shower.” Raven winks and laughs, which only flusters both of the Woods sisters more.

“I’d just like to point out this happened after Niylah and Lincoln asked me out. There were lines. That was probably one of them.”

“Not better.” Lexa wrinkles her nose.

“We didn’t cross them.” Anya holds up her hand in surrender.

Raven reaches out to Lexa and wraps her arms around her waist. She rocks her back and forth ever so slightly until Lexa cracks a smile again, “We didn’t, your sister is a complete sap.”

Lexa rolls her eyes. “That I believe.”

“Wait, so when did this happen?” Octavia asks with a tilt of her head.

“We should get downstairs and see if they need any help with dinner, and celebrate the miracle that is life or something.” Anya steps between Raven and Octavia as if to move for the door.

Raven glances at her. She knows what this is, it’s Anya trying to protect her still, knowing that after all this time there are memories that overwhelm her. Even with how much better things are she still has unpredictable moments where she freezes, her head screaming and overwhelmed. She tries to push his memory out of her mind, but he’s always there, hovering, waiting. Everything he said and did to break her down echoing in the edges of her mind.

It isn’t until Lexa reaches out for her hand that Raven feels her heart pounding against her rib cage and her breath thin and quick in the top of her chest.

“It was after Wick broke into your apartment wasn’t it?”

Raven nods. She doesn’t know what her voice will do if she tries it so she doesn’t say anything.

Lexa wraps her arm around Anya’s shoulders and presses a kiss to the vertebrae that sticks out on the back of her neck. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Octavia leans into Raven and pulls her close.

They’re family and maybe they aren’t the most traditional, but they love each other and maybe that means they can get through anything.

##  _______________________________________

 

**Two weeks later.**

 

Raven flops down on the day bed in her workshop, just narrowly missing landing on Mew, who protests loudly. She pats Mew absentmindedly and is rewarded with a face full of fur. Raven wrinkles her nose and sputters, picking up Mew and placing her on her stomach instead of her chest so she can mull things over in her head. She just got off the phone with the head of research and development at BionX, and she hasn’t really processed the reality of it but she’s staring at the follow up email in her inbox, so it must have happened. They want to invest in her 3D printable version of their ankle joint. It would make advanced prosthetics that much more affordable. If the material used by the printer continues to stand up to stress tests it might end up being an actual viable option.

Having the kind of mobility a hyper responsive joint affords shouldn’t be relegated to the rich and those that can afford really good insurance. There’s no telling how many people this would benefit. 

On top of that, an offer like this could almost guarantee her tenure, which would make her one of the youngest tenured faculty, and certainly the youngest female latina tenured faculty on staff. Definitely the first latina in the physics department. 

She hugs her phone to her chest and just lets that wash over her. She’s been busting her ass for too many years to get ahead, to get there first, because as a queer latina she will never be looked to first, so she has to get their attention. This feels like maybe she’s done it, but she knows that she still has a fight ahead of her.

It’s never over.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t worth celebrating.

Raven sighs contentedly and thumbs on the screen of her phone once more to re-read the email. Mew nips at her, begging for attention and Raven coos and scratches at her ears.

“Watcha doing?”

Raven nearly drops her phone.

“Nothing much, what’s up, O?” She tosses her phone to the side and reaches out a hand to her girlfriend.

Octavia saunters into the room and takes Raven’s hand as she climbs onto the bed, one knee on either side of Raven’s hips. She presses their hands together as she leans over. This is not Raven’s nothing is going on behavior. This is there is something big going through Raven’s head behavior.

“Talk to me or I’m going to kiss you.”

Raven bursts out laughing, “That’s not much of a threat, Octavia Blake.”

“It is if I do it badly.” Octavia waggles her eyebrows and makes as if to lick the side of Raven’s face.

“Don’t you dare!” Raven squirms and tries to hold Octavia at arms length. They struggle for a moment, giggling and trying to either lick or prevent being licked in equal measure. Raven loses as Octavia’s tongue makes contact with her cheek and she leaves a long damp streak. “Ew.”

There’s a small thwump and as Mew jumps down to the floor.

“Look what you did, you scared her off with your tongue being where it shouldn’t be.” Raven wrinkles her nose and sticks her tongue out.

“It was all me, huh?” Octavia teases.

“Yep,” Raven nods emphatically.

“So, you gonna tell me what’s on your mind, or am I going to have to lick you somewhere else.” Octavia props her chin on her hands which are resting on Raven’s chest.

“Again, that doesn’t sound like much of a threat.”

Octavia flops sideways onto the bed and brings the back of her hand to her forehead, playing up the dramatics. “You wound me with your doubt.”

“Weirdo.”

“I’m your weirdo.”

“Yes, and? You’re still weird.”

“Yeah but you still love me.”

Raven reaches out and takes Octavia’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I got a call from BionX.”

Octavia rolls over and back on top of Raven so she can look down at her. Raven has been hoping for a call back from them for weeks now. They got wind of her project, and at first Raven thought they might shut her down, but instead they had shown interest in the project. Her research into printable materials was promising and meant that there might be a future in affordable bionic prosthetics. 

“What did they say?” The question is more of an exclamation, as she prods Raven in the side.

Raven squirms and laughs, “They want to fund my research. They’re looking into giving me grant money to continue-”

“That’s amazing!” Octavia shrieks. The university is constantly trying to cut funding to extra programs, putting hiring freezes on staff, cutting budgets where they can’t really afford to be cut, but if Raven could get enough external funding that meant that the university would have incentive to keep her around, aside from the fact that she was insanely good at what she did. “I’m so proud of you, Rae, this is wonderful.” Octavia pulls back from Raven and all the kisses she’s dotting across her face. “This is wonderful, yes? Good?”

Raven laughs and pulls Octavia down for a kiss, she lets it trail on, building from soft happiness to something akin to need before she breaks it. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking wonderful.”

“Are we going to celebrate tonight?” Octavia bounces a little on the bed and it draws out another laugh from Raven.

Octavia’s energy is infectious.

“I thought someone was pretty keen on licking me tonight.” Raven bites her lip but doesn’t look away from Octavia. She grabs Octavia’s hip and pulls them down to make her point.

Octavia rolls her hips into Raven’s, grinding down on her, not about to let Raven get the upper hand. She dips her head down and kisses along Raven’s neck. There’s nothing more she wants than to make her girls happy, and feel good. If sex is how Raven wants to celebrate she’s all game.

“That can be arranged,” Octavia says between kisses. “Do you want me to get the others, or do you want some one on one time?”

Raven lets her head fall back and she sinks into Octavia’s kiss, lets her mind get lost in the feeling of Octavia’s hands on her sides, the way she knows exactly how to touch her to help her drift into that haze of pleasure where nothing exists but feeling. 

She squirms and moans and comes close to begging for more, but she can feel the pause in Octavia’s touch; she’s waiting. Raven drags her mind back to the world outside her head, outside of the pleasure that’s coursing through her. “Both is good,” she murmurs.

The laugh that escapes Octavia is throaty and low. She nips at Raven’s neck, “Whatever you want.”

“You know, I really love watching them.” Lexa’s voice is soft and reverent. She snakes her arms around Clarke’s waist and slides up against her.

Clarke tips her head back and turns her head to the side to kiss Lexa on the cheek, “Me, too… you know what’s more fun though?”

Raven and Octavia watch as Clarke and Lexa make their way across the small workshop to them. It’s been three years and three months since they all started to date and the gentle simplicity with which they fit together has yet to abate. Their love has only grown, and with it their desire for each other in all ways. Just before they reach the bed Clarke and Lexa split, each moving to lay down on either side of Raven.

“Is there a reason, or just feeling like it?” Lexa reaches out and trails her fingernails down Octavia’s side.

Octavia nudges Raven.

Raven rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning, “BionX called, said they wanted to fund my research.”

Clarke smacks a messy kiss on Raven’s cheek and whispers in her ear. “I’m proud of you.”

“This calls for dinner out.” Lexa declares as she leans over to kiss Raven.

“I mean I had been thinking about eating out…” Raven giggles as Lexa kisses her.

One kiss turns into another and before too long they’re all curled up on the little day bed, hands roaming but not insistent, kisses heated but not needy. It’s just enjoying kissing for the sake of kissing. It’s a softness in their love that’s only come from years together. 

Octavia pauses with her lips hover over Clarke’s neck and one hand each under Raven and Lexa’s shirts. Her stomach rumbles again and she groans softly. She doesn’t quite want things to stop, but also someone had brought up food, and now the thought is there persistent in the back of her mind. “Are we having sex or getting dinner?”

“Yes,” Raven says as she pulls back from kissing Lexa.

“Yeah but which first, I’m hungry.” Octavia sits up and tries to keep her attention on what she’s talking about, but it’s hard when Clarke is trying to get her attention again and convince her to get back to kissing by sliding her hands under Octavia’s shirt and then slipping them underneath the band of her sweatpants.

“Hungry, or  _ hungry _ ?” Clarke digs her fingers into the top of Octavia’s ass. Octavia groans and leans forward, her body wanting to give in.

“Both, but food first?” Octavia pouts. “Gotta keep my stamina up if we’re gonna properly celebrate Raven tonight.”

Raven kisses Lexa on the cheek and starts to nudge them all off the bed. “Let’s go feed O. We all have the day off tomorrow, there’s no rush.”

They tumble out of Raven’s workshop and upstairs to get dressed. It takes them longer than it should to get ready, but no longer than they need it to. They leave for dinner full of smiles and love and their hearts are light. It wasn’t easy getting this far, but they wouldn’t change the journey, not a minute of it.

##  _______________________________________

**Later that week.**

 

Lexa wraps Raven’s arm around her tighter and pulls Clarke up against them as she tugs at Octavia to roll over and join the cuddle pile before pulling the comforter up over there heads. It means this is their safe space. Anything they say underneath the blanket dome is said knowing that it has to be heard and respected and unless there’s unanimous agreement the conversation can be continued outside the bed.

“It’s early,” Clarke murmurs against Lexa’s collarbone. Her hand rests on Raven’s waist. 

“It’s nearly eleven,” Lexa huffs, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice.

Octavia yawns and curls up against Clarke’s back, “Yeah but we were up until at least three.”

Raven laces her fingers with Octavia’s, their hands somewhere between Clarke and Lexa. “How come you pulled us into the safe space, Lexa?” She presses a kiss to Lexa’s back just between her shoulderblades. “What’s on your mind?”

Lexa presses her face to the pillow and screws up her courage. She can’t let things sit when they start to eat at her, there’s no good that comes from hiding away from the way she feels.The hard part is she knows this isn’t one of the conversations that they can leave behind, whatever is talked about right them will stick with the however hard they try to move beyond it. The comforter cocoon is just a semblance of safety. Her heartbeat picks up pace and she makes herself say it before she loses her resolve. “We haven’t ever had a proper serious conversation about kids.”

“That’s because someone pointed out that it would be a legal impossibility to get us all custody.” Raven nuzzles Lexa’s back. It isn’t that they haven’t talked about wanting kids. She knows a big family is something she wants. It always felt like an anomaly that her parents only ever had her. She had more cousins than she could count on both hands. 

“How would we decide who got to be mom?” Clarke yawns. “Does anyone want to carry? Or would we rather adopt?”

“I thought maybe that’s what we could talk about.” Lexa pushes gently. “If we’re in agreement that we want kids that is.” Lexa reaches out and squeezes Octavia’s shoulder.

“It’s not like I had good parental figures,” Octavia curls into Clarke tighter.

Clarke reaches her hand behind her and cups Octavia’s head, scratching her scalp. “You’re not them, O.”

“Octavia, you’re so much better than how you were raised.” Raven squeezes her hand.

“I don’t hate the idea, I just don’t think I could ever carry. The thought of being pregnant freaks me out.” Octavia tries to hide behind Clarke. The thought of kids wasn’t something she spent a lot of time on. It had been among the reasons she and Lincoln had broken up. Not that she didn’t want kids, just that she wasn’t sure the parameters under which she would be comfortable with having them. WIth her girls, maybe there was a way to have a family. Watching Anya and Niylah and Lincoln get closer to that themselves had babies on everyone’s mind. “I wouldn’t mind having a little one or two around.”

“Clarke?” Lexa asks.

“The kid can’t be biologically mine.” It isn’t what Clarke means to open with. She means to say how she would like a kid, that she would want one that is hers, but the thought terrifies her. She’s been unstable for so long and she’s afraid what pregnancy hormones would do to her. She’s even more afraid to pass that onto one of their kids.”But I mean, I’m good with the idea of children in the general sense. In that we have a kid. Even before us I thought I would adopt one day.”

“Raven?” Lexa feels like she’s barely breathing. They all know where she sits, why would she bring up the subject at all unless it was something she wanted, or was thinking about maybe wanting. If she were honest she wasn’t quite certain how she felt but she couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility and she knew herself well enough to know that meant her subconscious had made a decision.

Raven presses her lips to Lexa’s back. “Yeah, I’m in.” She presses her forehead to Lexa and closes her eyes. Of course she’s in, she feels a smile curl at the corner of her mouth.

The four of them shift, trying to press closer, hold each other tighter. They want kids, or a kid, all four of them are in with the others in this. Raven holds Octavia’s hand, but her thumb rubs against the side of Clarke’s arm. Lexa’s chin is pressed to the curve of Clarke’s forehead and her arm is wrapped around both Clarke and Octavia. Clarke’s slipped her hand under the edge of Raven’s shirt, her thumb mirroring Raven’s in the slow comforting motion. Someone sniffles, holding back tears, and the noise is echoed, each of them trying to hold it together with the hypothetic idea.

“What do we do then?” Octavia asks quietly, because kids means a set of parents according to the rules of the state, not four, not unless there’s a divorce. “How do we chose who gets to be the legal parents?”

“If one of us carries, then her,” Lexa chooses her words carefully because no matter what they decide some part of it will hurt. “Custody would be easier if we married.” It’s a legal truth. “The other two could be godparents legally speaking.”

“You know, I think I expected a bit more romance with your proposal,” Raven nudges Lexa, there’s a hint of a laugh in her voice.

“I-” Lexa’s voice breaks. That hadn’t been what she meant. It had been, but not quite like that, not quite so… literally in that moment, in her head they were still in hypotheticals.

“Which one of us would you marry then?” Octavia catches onto Raven’s teasing tone. It’s easier to joke than to think of not marrying all three of them. The thought of it catches in her throat.

Clarke presses a kiss to Lexa’s sternum. “I don’t want to marry if it can’t be all of you.”

“Neither do I,” Lexa whispers.

“For legal reasons though, paperwork, in name only. Could that be a thing?” Octavia suggests. “What if we had a commitment ceremony, married each other, all four of us, but the paperwork allowed us legal rights in pairs?”

“It still feels wrong,” Raven sighs. “But it might make custody for the kids easier.”

“And taxes.” Lexa adds. It sits uncomfortably in her heart. There are no pairings that make the most sense. Any combination that isn’t four feels lacking when it’s mean to be representative of their relationship. She sniffles but can’t keep the tears from dripping across her nose.

Clarke chews on her lip as she thinks. Conflicting emotions spring up in her heart, loss and hope. “Everyone keeps saying kids, like we’re going to have more than one.”

“We could?” Lexa asks as she kisses Clarke’s forehead.

“Adopt at least one?” Raven snuggles closer to Lexa.

“I’d like that,” Lexa says.

Octavia props herself up on one elbow and looks at her girls, “If we get a bio kid, whose would it be?” 

Raven squeezes Octavia’s hand. “Unless we want to have one of us be a surrogate for another, it would be me or Lexa, as neither you nor Clarke want to carry.”

“It would be one of you three, I don’t want this genetic mess in the mix,” Clarke gestures to herself.

“You’re a beautiful, talented mess, and we love you, and we’d love the kid too,” Lexa snuggles down in the bed so she’s nose to nose with Clarke. “I understand not wanting to risk giving someone your struggles, but you’re so very worthy of everything.”

“What Lexa said,” Raven pushes up and leans over Lexa to kiss Clarke.

Octavia and Clarke pull Raven on top of the three of them, cuddling everyone tighter until both Lexa and Raven are curled on top of Clarke and Octavia. They’re too tangled up in each other to keep track of who is holding whom. The further they push into this conversation the clearer it becomes that their relationships are so intricately intertwined that they can not be so easily undone. To separate into couples or to remove one of them would unravel what they have.

“Maybe we don’t decide right now,” Clarke says softly and kisses someone’s shoulder.

“Motion to move this conversation outside the cocoon?” Octavia giggles. “All in favor say aye.”

Their voices echo each other, for  _ aye’s _ . 

“That’s it then,” Raven whispers. “We’re talking about having a kid.”

“And adopting one,” Lexa says just as softly.

“Can we have breakfast first?” Clarke asks.

Someone’s stomach grumbles loudly and the four of them start to laugh. Limbs shaking, and jiggling, and more laughter until they’re lost in the joy of the moment. They peel down the comforter and their laughter spills out into the room. It bounces off the walls and wraps around them as the cool air wakes them up. Laughter dissolves into kisses and kisses into  _ I love you’s _ until they remember that it’s morning and they’re hungry and not all impossible things have to be done before breakfast.

##  _______________________________________

**Roughly seven months later, mid-June.**

 

Clarke looks up at her mother. She’s sitting on the corner of her bed and Abby is leaning against the dresser. Lexa is in the shower and Octavia is downstairs affixing flowers in Raven’s hair. Today is the day that they say vows and exchange rings and promise to stay together through thick and thin. It seems like they’ve had enough ups and downs to last them a lifetime and that maybe, perhaps, this would be their soft epilogue.

They call each other home and love and life and they have a future together because of the past that they have shared.

Abby steps forward and kneels down in front of Clarke.

She knows this is the moment where her mom starts talking about her dad and how he’d feel about today, about how if he was around he would be here for Clarke. She expects the thought of him to crack and shake her but there’s only a dull thudding ache. Still, tears sting her eyes. She misses him but that pain doesn’t bring her to her knees anymore.

Abby reaches up to brush the tears away but Clarke catches her hands and holds them. 

“I know, mom.” Clarke’s voice cracks. She leans forward until her forehead is on her knees and the top of her head brushes against Abby’s shoulder. Even if the thought of him doesn’t break her she doesn’t want to push it, and talking about him feels like too much.

“I wish he was here,” Abby whispers and presses a kiss to the back of Clarke’s head. “But today is going to be beautiful. I can’t imagine anything more full of love.”

The master bathroom door opens and Clarke sits up, scrubbing at her face to get rid of any evidence of crying. The last thing she wants is to risk falling into a funk today, and she doesn’t want her girlfriends to worry about it. Today is going to be amazing and that’s all she wants to think about when she looks back on it. It’s been more than a year since she started therapy and  her mood swings happen less and less often, but there are still things that will drag her down, and sometimes it’s nothing at all. That’s always the worst.

Today though is about good things.

Clarke watches Lexa slip out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, her hair still damp and hanging around her shoulders. She breathes in heavily and sighs because Lexa is beautiful. All of them are, but she’s looking at Lexa in that moment and she can feel her heart fill with it, soft and bubbling.

“Clarke?” Lexa pauses midway to the closet as she starts to towel dry her hair. It’s evident that Clarke has been crying and she worries that the emotional toil of the day will be too much. Sometimes she feels like she’s walking a tightrope between emotions with her, but they’ve all been getting better at helping Clarke stay level.

“I’m okay, Lex, promise.” Clarke smiles, she knows it’s the truth.

Lexa crosses the room anyway and picks up Clarke’s chin between her thumb and forefinger as she kisses her softly. “Are you certain?”

“Yeah, Lex, I get to marry you and Octavia and Raven today.” She grins at the crease that forms between Lexa’s brows and laughs. “Promise myself, whatever you want to call it, you’re still gonna be my wife at the end of the day.”

“You bet your ass I am,” Lexa kisses Clarke’s forehead and straightens up, only then does she really register Abby crouched down next to Clarke. She feels her chest flush and dips her gaze as she retreats toward the closet once more,  “Sorry, Abby.”

“You’re fine Lexa, go get your underthings on and I’ll help you with your hair.” Abby straightens up with a small groan and goes into the bathroom to retrieve the blow dryer, straightener, and curling iron. 

Lexa stops her before she gets to the closet, “Thank you for being mom for all of us today with Eva. I would have asked Anya to help but-”

“She’s eight months pregnant and a bit more intense than normal?”

“Exactly.” Lexa smiles softly. “It means a lot to me.”

Abby reaches out and curls a hand around the back of Lexa’s head to pull her down and kiss her on the forehead. “You’re family. This is what we do.”

Octavia comes back up the stairs and into the room then, her phone is in one hand and her little basket of flowers hanging off her other arm to make them all flower crowns with. Her hair is up in a crown braid, loose tendrils cascading down her face and she has fresh flowers already woven into her hair. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a tank top and looks a lot like some kind of punk fairy.

“Either of you ready for me?” She asks without looking up from her phone.

“I’m still wet,” Lexa calls from the closet.

“I bet you are,” Octavia mutters absentmindedly. She glances up from her phone and catches sight of a mostly naked Lexa in the closet. It’s a sight she’s certain she’ll never tire of. Next she sees Abby in the bathroom looking at her with one eyebrow raised. “Sorry Mrs. G.”

“Octavia.” Abby reproaches.

“Abby.” Octavia rolls her eyes, old habits die hard and when she feels like Abby might be judging her she slips into her old ways.

“I’m ready,” Clarke giggles and scoots back onto the bed and waits for Octavia to come to her. She grins as she watches Octavia practically trip over the bed before she looks where she’s going. If someone had told her nineteen years ago that she would be committing herself to the scrappy scrawny girl who punched out a bully at recess for her she never would have imagined this, especially not like this.

She reaches for Octavia and tugs her onto the bed and down for a kiss. Octavia kisses her once lightly and pulls back.

“We’ll have time for that later, right now I’m on hair duty.”

Clarke pouts.

“Don’t even, we were late for breakfast because of that pout.” Even with her stern tone Octavia winks and leans back in for a deeper kiss, she bites at Clarke’s lower lip. “Besides I don’t want to mess up your hair before I can get the flowers in it.”

“Alright,” Clarke acquiesces and settles in to let Octavia work her flower magic. 

Clarke closes her eyes and leans into Octavia. She thought she would be nervous today, but she’s calm and certain. They chose to do something simple. Homemade food, potluck style with a few things brought in. No more of their family and friends than can fit in their backyard, which is just enough to make it a party, but not so many people that they won’t be able to hang out with everyone before the night is over.

No overly fancy dresses. Anya made them each something simple and elegant and unique. Their guests are in summer finery. Flowing dresses and khaki shorts and bare feet. It’s a bit of an excuse for a bar-b-queue.

It’s mostly an excuse to stand by things they said the year before when they came out, and to promise each other that no matter what happens next they’ll work through it like they always have. The four of them are home to each other now and so in love that they can’t imagine a future where they don’t try.

In between placing each flower Octavia kisses the back of Clarke’s neck and shoulders. Clarke’s hair is haloed around her head much like Octavia’s but it runs down her back as well in golden waves. It doesn’t take her long to affix enough flowers and she wraps her arms around Clarke.

They sway together gently.

“Clarke?” Octavia whispers.

“Yeah?” she whispers back.

“Thank you.” Octavia sets her chin on Clarke’s shoulder.

“What for?” Clarke rubs her cheek against Octavia’s.

“For never giving up on us, even when it was hard, even when we weren’t us and we were just friends struggling and trying to survive. For being my best friend and sticking by my side.” The immensity of their friendship and relationship washes over Octavia. Without each other they would be entirely different people.

“I love you, Octavia.” Clarke lays her hands on top of Octavia’s and squeezes. 

Octavia closes her eyes and lets herself just breathe in the moment. It smells like Clarke, who smells like lavender, because of course she does. “You should see Raven, she looks stunning. Eva did amazing with her hair.”

“I’ll see her soon enough,” Clarke smiles and nuzzles Octavia. “I should get up and get dressed, and you should go do Lexa’s flowers, so you can get dressed.”

Octavia sighs and nods and unwraps herself from Clarke. It doesn’t take her long to place flowers in Lexa’s hair; they spend more time kissing than she does on the flowers, so much that Abby eventually gives up trying to help and goes back to see if Clarke needs anything for her makeup. 

With Lexa finished, that just leaves the last few preparations and then they’ll all be ready, just about on time. Octavia fixes her makeup one more time and slips on her dress before hurrying downstairs.

Octavia pauses outside the downstairs bathroom, just out of sight of the mirror and watches Raven. She’s not certain she’s ever been quite so in love. It hits her from time to time that with each passing day she’s more in love than she was the day before. And having just come from Lexa and Clarke dressed in white to see Raven in her dress with her shoulders bare the feeling comes over her again.

“You look so beautiful today,” Octavia says reverently.

“I thought it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” Raven laughs as she feels Octavia wrap her arms around her.

Octavia places a gentle kiss to the back of Raven’s neck, and nestles her nose against the baby hairs there that curl. Raven has her hair pulled to one side over her shoulder, lightly curled and sleek in a way that she rarely bothers with. “That’s only in traditional weddings, and don’t let Lexa hear you call it a wedding again,” she teases.

“Right, commitment ceremony,” Raven smiles at Octavia in the mirror and continues working on the finishing touches of her makeup. She does her best impression of Lexa, “The laws are stupid and I can’t find a way to legally marry us all.”

They both giggle and Raven turns around to softly kiss Octavia.

“I’m still calling all of you my wives,” Octavia murmurs.

“Me, too.” Raven brushes a smudge of lipstick from Octavia’s mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.” Octavia breathes out and settles herself as much as she can. There are butterflies in her stomach and she never imagined she would feel quite this way, as if her life was steady and stable and that each passing day is growing toward something bigger and better while still being wonderful.

Even the rough days are worth it.

They’ve had their fair share of those over the years through falling in love and coming out and deciding if they would let their family grow.

Octavia rests her hands on Raven’s stomach and crouches down so she’s nose to belly button. Raven isn’t showing much, and the dress Anya made her hides the tiny bump that is there, not that there’s anyone settling into their backyard that doesn’t know, but they hadn’t expected the pregnancy to happen so soon after they had picked the date for the ceremony.

“Hey littlest Woods,” Octavia whispers. “Are you ready for today? Your mommies are going to be all sappy and exchange rings and kiss in front of everyone, which you’ll be embarrassed by one day. We love you lots though.”

The little one would be a Reyes-Woods, and Anya’s daughter would be a Woods. It seemed right, the family name that stuck around for no reason, that Anya and Lexa had built a home around, that was the name they passed down to all their children. It meant something. The Woods sisters had persevered against all odds to find themselves a family, it only seemed right that they gave that same hope to the Woods children.

Raven helps Octavia back up to standing and blinks back the tears in her eyes. Everything makes her a little teary eyed and emotional these days. She blames it on the baby, but she knows she’d be crying today anyway. When she met Clarke and Lexa and Octavia she never imagined she would find home with them, that they would love her so unconditionally. That first day, they had seemed so well balanced even though she hadn’t known officially then, she never thought they would find room for a fourth. 

“Lexa and Clarke?” Raven asks.

“On their way down.” Octavia takes Raven’s hand. “When you’re ready.”

Raven nods.

“I’ve never been more ready.” She squeezes Octavia’s hand and bites the inside of her lip, trying not to muss her makeup. She only just catches sight of Lexa and Clarke before they’re there with them.

Lexa slips her hand into Octavia’s free one, “Me either. Shall we?”

“Together?” Clarke holds tight to Lexa’s hand and reaches out for Raven.

Raven laces her fingers through Clarke’s and the four of them breath in unison.

_ Together _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, thank you for reading, thank you for sharing your stories, thank you for sharing this story with others. I'm sad to see it end, but man, I've absolutely loved this journey.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr, lets figure out what the next adventure is.


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